


Shipping it like the Titanic

by ScrollingKingfisher, WarlockWriter



Series: Gabriel Monthly Challenges [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absolutely Insane Amounts of Miscommunication, Bondage, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Gabriel Being Gabriel (Supernatural), Gabriel Writes Smut, Homemade Pornography, M/M, Meta, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Sabriel - Freeform, The Supernatural Fandom - Freeform, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Wings, because of course Gabriel is active on the kinkmeme, mentions of Tentacles, meta madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrollingKingfisher/pseuds/ScrollingKingfisher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlockWriter/pseuds/WarlockWriter
Summary: Sam secretly writes fanfiction between killing monsters and fending off the apocalypse-of-the-day. In heaven, a newly recovered Gabriel discovers smut and decides to try his hand. Because that's all sabriel will ever be for either of them, obviously- a far-off fantasy.There's no way what they're writing about could ever find its way into their real lives. No way whatsoever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the February Gabriel Monthly Challenge, which will eventually contain not one, not two, but THREE whole prompts!!  
> But, like everything else I write, this has blown itself out of proportion, so here's the first chunk for now. More to follow!
> 
> Edit- BEHOLD, THE GLORY OF THE COVER ART!!! all thanks go to WrlockWriter, you're the best <3

 

It started with the play.

 

Sam had almost forgotten about the Supernatural books- their lives went crazy on such a regular basis that any form of insanity that wasn’t directly threatening their lives tended to be quickly pushed into the background. But it all came back to him in vivid detail as he watched a fifteen-year-old with yellow contacts gleefully daub red paint onto the face of a plastic doll that he was fairly sure was meant to be representing him.

 

It had been a surreal experience, seeing those schoolgirls play out their various adventures. There was something almost… freeing about it, he realised as he watched the recording again on the way back to the bunker. It really put some of the crazy crap they went through into perspective.

 

And then Dean had to go and make a big deal out of the… _interpretations_ of the supernatural books. And Sam got curious, okay?

 

So the next time he had a few hours to himself while Dean was out doing god knew what, Sam got himself a beer from the fridge, sat himself down at the library table, flicked open his laptop and opened a browser tab.

 

A quick search was more than enough to find what he was looking for. It wasn’t exactly well hidden. The first result in google was the official website for Chuck’s books- it hadn’t aged well. Even back in 2007 when the books were being published Sam would have said it looked outdated. Whoever had designed it obviously wasn’t being paid much. Who ever made official graphics in comic sans? He shook his head, backtracking.

 

But the link below that led to a rather better curated fan site. Sam narrowed his eyes as he scrolled down. There were the links to the publishers, but also PDFs of the later, unpublished books. There were dates for conventions along with links to get tickets. And at the bottom, there was a series of links to other websites, presumably places to chat with other fans.

 

He hovered his cursor over the link simply entitled  tumblr and clicked.

 

There was so _much_. More than Sam had even thought possible for a tiny series of books with a cult following.

 

He ended spending most of the afternoon falling into the apparently bottomless pit of online fandom. The raft of empty beer bottles at his elbow grew as he roamed his way through the understorey of the internet. He scrolled with fascination through blogs full of pictures edited to look like them, through fan theories of what they were like, and then speculation about things the books didn’t show. Continuations, ‘missing scenes’, and… other things. If Sam never had to accidentally read another poorly-written full-frontal account of Cas and Dean’s fictitious sex life, it would be too soon.

 

And, well, there were so many things they’d got wrong. Or not quite right. But Sam didn’t feel right about commenting on people’s stories; they didn’t want some randomer coming along and critiquing their characterisation.

 

So the only way to correct it, he thought with tipsy confidence, was to write it how it had actually happened. He started off small; wrote a few of their more recent hunts, made a blog, and before he could think about it too much, pressed that ‘post’ button.

 

When he woke up in the morning, he was surprised to find all the notes and comments. Apparently, people liked his writing. A lot.

 

So he wrote more. And more. Soon Sam was pretty sure he had an addiction. It wasn’t like he had any lack of free time in which to write- Dean was always so stubborn about which of them got to drive, so he had hours and hours of sitting in the passenger seat to fill, and there was only so long he could spend researching.

 

So his blog quickly grew.

 

At first, it was strictly real life that he wrote; hunts they’d recently been on, anecdotes, slices of their lives. It helped him to cope, to get all of his thoughts and emotions out of his head and onto paper. But soon, he was branching out into ‘fix it fic’- for him, it was wistful thoughts about possibilities of what could have been if they’d taken different roads. If they’d just managed to save a person here, trusted someone else there. One or two about what might happen if Cas and Dean ever pulled their heads out of their asses.

 

So he was pretty deep already by the time he stumbled across the Sabriel.

 

He had just woken up when he found it. He was sitting at the bunker kitchen table, scrolling through his feed over a cup of coffee. Gifset, meta analysis, pictures, art, gif-

 

Wait.

 

He got the the end of the post and just stopped scrolling for a second, blinking. Had that art been of him and Gabriel? He scrolled back up.

 

It was. They were hugging- the artist had got the height difference right, he distantly noted. It was a good likeness even. It was quite chaste compared to a lot of the things that crossed his screen, but there was… something about it. He blinked some more, feeling his forehead scrunch a little as he narrowed his eyes at the screen.

 

He wasn’t offended by it or anything. Mostly, he was just confused.

 

Him and Gabriel? Really?

 

Why?

 

He and Gabriel had barely known each other. The archangel had hardly talked to him. Even when he had, those words had more often than not been angry. They had started off hunting him after all. And they hadn’t parted mystery spot as friends. Hell, on top of that, Gabriel was dead! Long dead!

 

Sam clicked on the artist’s profile and scrolled further down, a huff of amused disbelief breaking out of him. The art definitely wasn’t a one-off, and judging from all the reblogs, they were far from the only shipper. No matter what had really happened, these people seemed to think that they had potential.

 

He sat back, resting his phone down on the table and considering. Huh. What would that even be called? Samiel? Sambriel?

 

He checked the tags. Sabriel, apparently.

 

It was impossible. Totally and utterly implausible. Maybe that was what drew him to it. There was no way any of this could work its way into Sam’s real life. He didn’t see any harm in it.

 

At first it just amused him. But gradually, over time, he found himself starting to seek it out. The ‘incorrect quotes’ made him laugh, either because they were hilariously out of character or (more often than not) hilariously in character. The mood boards made him smile. The art sometimes tugged too-tight at his heart, but it was always amazing. And the fic was something else.

 

Before he knew it, he was following a whole host of sabriel blogs, reblogging their content to his own. He even made a few friends.

 

And, gradually? He was starting to see it too. The books had been more revealing about Gabriel than he ever had been in real life. Meta posts pointed out the similarities between their characters, between their stories, and it made Sam realise that they really hadn’t been that different after all. Gabriel had been just as desperate and afraid as he was back then, he’d just had different ways of hiding it. And if the scant number of scenes from Gabriel’s point of view were as accurate as the rest of the books, it certainly looked like he’d had a soft spot for Sam, much as Sam thought he’d never showed it.

 

 _Just how many of their interpretations were true?_ he wondered as he stared at his dimmed computer screen while the streetlamps flashed past on another midnight road. _Was there a possibility that, if Gabriel was alive, they could have got along?_

 

He felt a little pang at the thought that they’d never talked at all, really, before he died. Sam felt he knew the archangel better now than he ever had back then. Knowing what he knew now, he wished that he’d at least been friends with him.

 

In a way, fictional Sam had it better than real him did. The more he read, the more he realised he was craving what his fictional self had; stability, a partner. Someone to come back home to, someone to wrap his arms around at night. It wasn’t like there could ever be any permanent lovers in his real life. He could never keep what he did a secret, or drag someone into this life. And after Eileen, he didn’t have the heart to date anyone within the business. The mortality rate for hunters was just too high.

 

He looked out the window, shaking his head at himself as they rushed through the night. How sad had his life become? A little voice at the back of his head whispered maliciously. Was he really sitting here daydreaming wistfully about a normal life like some kind of caricature of himself?

 

 _Well maybe I am_ , he retaliated almost angrily. He had few enough permanent good things in his life, and his writing was a lifeline that kept him afloat. It was an escape from the violence and monotony of their lives. It wasn’t hurting anyone. If he wanted to fantasise about having somebody who cared about him, then what the hell, he was gonna do it.

 

With renewed determination, he opened a new document and started to type.

 

...

 

So it went on. He wrote when Amara rose. He wrote then their Mom came back from the dead. He wrote to forget his torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters. He wrote when Cas died, when he lost their Mom, when they found Jack, when Cas returned from the Empty. It was his crutch; whenever things got bad, out came a fresh google doc and onto the page it all went. By the time they were trying to get their mom back from the apocalypse world, his little blog had over two thousand followers all eagerly awaiting his updates.

 

So obviously, because this was the Winchester’s luck, _that_ was when Gabriel came back to life.

 

.o0o.

 

Gabriel would like it noted down that it was Cas’ fault. For the record.

 

“Brother. You need to take a break.”

 

Gabriel looked down at him from heaven’s throne and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. It was a look he’d been perfecting these last few weeks since he’d come back upstairs to reclaim what was left of his birthright and discovered how almost frighteningly easily the other angels fell into line- the first time he’d done it, a cupid had actually keeled over.

 

Castiel, on the other hand, didn’t back down even half an inch. That seraph had balls of steel. It was one of the things Gabriel liked best about his brother- he had no fear of calling Gabriel out on his bullshit, unlike the rest of the cowardly sycophants up here.

 

“You have been snapping at the seraphim all week. I believe you need to, as Dean would put it, ‘take a load off’.”

 

He even crooked his fingers to make the air quotation marks. Adorable.

 

Gabriel heaved a sigh. “And what do you suggest I do? A zumba class? Go out and commune with nature?”

 

Castiel was undeterred by his prickly demeanour. “What did you used to do to relax?”

 

“Mess with dickheads until they died,” Gabriel answered. Cas stared at him blankly, waiting.

 

“... Make amateur porn?” he suggested.

 

Cas sighed, rolling his eyes and turning with a swish of trench coat. “Just… go and find something to do, Gabriel. Something productive. Read a book,” he called over his shoulder as he strode out of heaven’s throne room.

 

Gabriel scoffed to himself, slouching back on the throne to sulk. Read a book? Like literature could hold his attention at the moment. What he needed to do was get outta here and stop wallowing in his own juices!

 

But if he was being honest with himself (not something he made a habit of), he really didn’t know what he wanted to do once he _did_ manage to get out. He was… aimless. And the longer he sat here with nothing to distract him, the more those memories lurking at the back of his mind dragged their fingernails against his consciousness.

 

You know what? Maybe he would read that book.

 

He stood and snapped himself to the nearest bookstore before he had any more time to chew it over. Walking over to the fiction section, he perused along the shelves. Yes, escapism, that was what he needed!

 

But nothing appealed. Every damn book he picked up seemed to be either a cheap Game of Thrones knock-off or vampire erotica, and he’d already had his fun with Stephanie Meyer.

 

He was about to snap himself away again in frustration when he paused. There was something poking out of the discount book bin. That cover looked strangely familiar…

 

He picked it up, smirking at the hunks on the cover, and turned it over to read the blurb. His eyes widened. Holy guacamole. He couldn’t believe it!

 

He started laughing, uncontrollable whole-body-shaking hoots that quickly turned into constricted wheezing, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. People started backing away from him, but he didn’t care. Oh, this was great! Of all the books that had to catch his eye, it had to be this one. If he didn’t know better, he’d say this was Dad-ordained fate.

 

He nearly skipped up to the counter, slapping the book down next to the cash register. “Hey, you got any more of these?”

 

The guy behind it eyed him with concern. “Yeah, should be more if you dig in the bottom of the bin. You like them?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel grinned like a slightly manic shark. “I’m a big fan.”

 

...

 

“ _Father above,_ their lives are depressing.”  

 

Gabriel tossed the last book off the dais with a sigh, lobbing it neatly through a wormhole. Well, that had helped pass a few hours, at least. But after binging his way through two entire lifetimes’ worth of tragedy and man-tears, he was outta reading material.

 

What now?

 

Idly, Gabriel pulled out the phone that Sam had given him the last time he popped down to update them. Installing WiFi in heaven had been the first thing he did when he limped back. His siblings would thank him. Eventually.

 

He typed ‘supernatural’ into google.

 

And, wow. His eyes widened. That was a lot of porn. Ah, humanity at their finest- it didn’t matter how angst-soaked the source material was, in his experience, there was always at least one fan who would say, “hmmm this needs more nudity!” And, apparently, this fandom had more than one fan who thought Sam and Dean needed more hanky panky in their lives.

 

He chuckled, scrolling down the entries. Damn, he liked these people already!

 

“Bingo.” He clicked on a link.

 

The site flashed up before his eyes, summaries and ratings in their colourful boxes catching his attention. Now this was more like it! He snapped himself up a big tub of popcorn and dug in.

 

**…**

 

He was half way through the tag when he started finding the sabriel.

 

For the first time since he’d started reading four days ago, his finger paused on the touchpad. His grin faded a little.

 

So they’d noticed that, had they? He’d thought it wasn’t _too_ obvious from the books, but humans were intuitive.

 

Tentatively, he clicked. He read, getting more and more wound up the further down he got.

 

He snorted to himself as he reached the bottom of the page. Where was the danger? The drama? The strippers? He didn’t belong in a coffee shop AU! He pressed the back button, scowling. He searched the tag itself, and wasn’t much more impressed. Why was there so much domesticity? He was a maverick! A rolling stone!

 

Hey, maybe he should start writing? Show them all where they were going wrong? Because somewhere along the line they’d clearly got the completely wrong impression of his character.

 

And okay, he thought as he set himself up an account, so maybe they’d been right about him nursing a little crush on the younger Winchester from afar. That was fine! Nobody in real life needed to know! He could just bury that one at the bottom of the ocean in a mental curse box with all the other things he deliberately didn’t think about. As far as Gabriel was concerned, he would keep all his feelings right here in his chest, and then one day Sam would die, and that would be the end of it. And Gabriel’s heart would shatter into a million tiny shards and he would never be quite right again.

 

But whatever! Not like that was gonna spillover into what he wrote or anything. No, this work of creative genius was gonna be one-hundred-percent _SEX_ , as many chapters of raunchy, kinky, personal-fantasy-fulfilling porn as he could get out onto paper. No feelings here. None whatsoever.

 

So he conjured a laptop, opened up a playlist for inspiration, and started to write.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have mentioned, a big thank you to the sabriel discord for the idea, plotting advice and for letting me generally spam the writing channels! This is partially your baby too ;)

 

 

The first time that Sam ever really paid any attention to  _ Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets _ was when he reblogged the call-out post.

 

> **_Fandoms-forevr:_ ** _ I don’t care what they say, Sam is always the worst character. No matter what else he’s done, the stans can’t deny the facts; he opened a portal to hell. He opened the cage and started the apocalypse. He’s a selfish, manipulative asshole. Tbh if Sam wasn’t in the books, Dean could be retired by now and not be dragged around cleaning up after Sam’s sorry ass.  _
> 
> _ Sam apologists, don’t interact. _

 

It had been nearly 3am and most of the way through a bottle of whisky, and Sam had reblogged it as an act of drunken self-flagellation. Then he had flicked his phone off, rolled over, and fallen asleep like a baby seal that had been clubbed over the head with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

 

He woke up to online carnage.

 

He thought that the notifications were a hallucination from his raging hangover for a second, but when he blinked they didn’t disappear. His eyes widened as he scrolled down the long list of angry reblogs. Some seemed to be arguing for him, some against him. Who the hell had started all this drama? 

 

He scrolled down to the first reblog.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets reblogged:_ ** _ I’m sorry, but Sam? A ‘selfish, manipulative asshole’? What have you been smoking? Whatever it is, put that blunt down, cos it’s making you delusional. _
> 
> _ First off, I know this post is about Sam, but you really think Dean would stop hunting without having to be literally chained to the floor? Puh-lease, that boy isn’t gonna stop moving until he gets hitched to Castiel. _
> 
> _ Anyway, back to Sam. You’re wrong. Don’t know how you can’t see that, but here, let me take you to the character optometrist... _

 

And then they went  _ off _ . 

 

The post kept going, a whole list of passionate arguments. Sam felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. He might not agree with their points, but whoever they were, they had style. 

 

Sam had seen people defending him before. He tended to avoid those sorts of posts; it made him uncomfortable. He knew he didn’t deserve these people’s praise. But for some reason, those usual feelings of guilt and inadequacy weren’t surfacing

 

The good feelings faded when he opened up his personal messages. 

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets said:_ ** _ Call yourself a Sam fan? I thought you were meant to be on his side? _

 

Sam frowned at his phone. The reblogs, okay, but personal messaging? Really? His fingers poised over the keys to write an acerbic response, but he restrained himself. He didn’t owe random assholes on the internet any explanations!

 

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets… why was that familiar? He’d seen them around once or twice before, he realised; sabriel wasn’t the biggest ship ever, so chances were if someone was on board then Sam would have at least heard of them. 

 

But recently, Gabriel’s real life return had put a bit of a damper on his reading and writing. It was one thing writing yourself into a relationship with someone who was, to all intents and purposes, not real- it was quite another to write yourself sharing a loving embrace with someone who regularly popped in to give you updates on how heaven was doing under new management. He was surprised he could even look Gabriel in the face after some of the things he’d read about them. 

 

That was it! Sam nodded to himself as he realised where he’d seen Trickster before. The kinkmeme. Of course. 

 

He opened up their A03 profile. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing in there less explicit than an E. Half of their fics made Sam blush down to his scalp just by looking at the summaries. There were some… colourful entries in there. 

 

Sam hovered his cursor over the latest fic. With trepidation, he clicked.

 

> _ “Spank me. It’s the only way I learn.” _
> 
> _ Sam waved his cute patootie in the air, already marked with several cherry-red handprints like the naughty boy he was. _
> 
> _ “Oh, you’re gonna learn, sweet-cheeks. And you’re gonna enjoy it.” _
> 
> _ Gabriel ran his fingers across the array of toys before him, and as he glanced up, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips, he had never looked more dangerous. Dangerous, powerful and sexy. He picked out the biggest dildo, the one as long as Sam’s arm and twice as shiny, and in one swift thrust he rammed it into his tight little- _

 

“Oh my god,” Sam choked, turning the laptop screen away a little. He needed a moment. That was… that wasn’t physically possible. Or at least, not pleasurable at all. It couldn’t be.

 

Was it?

 

He glanced back at the text. It was just morbid curiosity, that was all, he told himself. Just morbid... curiosity…

 

He read the whole thing. And then another one. And another one.

 

Sam surreptitiously adjusted his pants. Okay, so Trickster could write, he thought to himself. That didn’t make them any less of an asshole. But he did decide to message them back.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ Look, we’ve got different opinions. Could you just stay in your lane and stop bothering me? _

 

It took a surprisingly short length of time before a reply to pop up.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets-_ ** _ I’ll stop bothering you when you aren’t reblogging hate posts _

 

Sam scowled, feeling his temper rise. Who did they think they were, telling him what he could and couldn’t have on his blog? Like their own wasn’t a dumpster fire of discourse posts!

 

“What you looking at?” 

 

Sam nearly jumped out of his seat, hiding his phone in reflex. Dean was standing behind him, grey robe on, steaming mug of coffee in hand.

 

“Selkie lore,” Sam grunted defensively.

 

Dean snorted. “What have selkies ever done to you?” Sam looked up again, frowning in confusion. Dean plonked himself down in the seat opposite, pulling the toast towards himself. “You look like you’re ready to open up a can of whoop-ass. What’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” Sam muttered. “Late night, that’s all.”

  
  
Dean raised his eyebrows but stayed silent, accepting his answer. Sam angled his phone away from his brother and typed furiously. 

 

> **_Moose-Of-Letters Commented:_ ** _ I’m not going to even bother arguing with you. If we can’t have a conversation like adults, then just fuck off. _

 

He brought up their profile, his finger hovering over the ‘block’ button, but he paused. They were one of his followers. 

 

Maybe… maybe he was being a little harsh. It  _ had  _ been a hate post, and he usually tried to be positive about all the ‘characters’, while he was sober at least- he didn’t normally put up with character hate. He’d been pretty vocal about it in the past. No wonder people had been taken aback, even if this one had dealt with it rudely. Slowly, he took his finger off the button, going back to the chat. How should he phrase this?

 

> **_Moose-Of-Letters Commented:_ ** _ Look, some of the stuff with Sam is kind of personal for me, it’s a bit too close to home. I’m sorry if I got snappy with you. _

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets-_ ** _ Oops. Too late for that _

 

What did that mean? As soon as Sam thought that, his feed updated. And there it was, right at the top. 

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets posted-_ ** _ The great battle for Sam’s dignity begins. Who woulda thought it but Moose-of-Letters is officially the enemy of the people. I declare war!! _

 

The text was followed by a gif of a pair or armoured knights facing off while brandishing rubber dildos. Already there had been another flurry of reblogs and arguments. Sam rolled his eyes, turning off is phone. Why did he even bother?

 

…

 

Gabriel was scrolling down his feed idly, one foot propped up on one armfest of the throne, one swinging lazily. Honestly, as much as he moaned about the commitments of ruling heaven, there wasn’t that much to do. The most difficult thing he’d solved this morning was a disagreement between the Virtues as to whether the lesser cherubs should be classified using a tiered system or not. Who cared! It didn’t matter!! After that, the inane squabbles of tumblr discourse looked almost sensible.

 

Almost.

 

But then, he did enjoy causing chaos and then sitting back and watching everyone fall over themselves in indignation. That was just funny. 

 

And what was even better were the increasingly frustrated and snarky reblogs he’d been getting from an account he’d decided to target after they reblogged that Dad-awful Sam hate post. Moose-of-Letters had totally deserved it. He was amazed that Moose hadn’t blocked him yet, but he was taking advantage of having someone to rile up while it lasted. Their replies to his challenge had been getting progressively more pointed and it gave Gabriel a petty sort of satisfaction. Even more satisfying was the number of people arguing in the notes. It was turning into a full-on fandom war. He was planning another volley of posts this afternoon, he had some scorching insults lined up, and he couldn’t wait for the chaos to take hold. 

 

He reblogged some excellent fanart of Dean in a pair of pink panties (must remember to leave that somewhere for him to find), skipped over another post about the latest tumblr scandal (someone was making earrings out of human bones!?), but then he paused. He felt a flash of excitement- his nemesis was posting again.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters posted:_ ** _ Ugh, it annoys me so much when people try to pass Gabriel off as someone who just has loads of sex and eats candy and does nothing else. Like whatever, you want an outlet for your kinks, but it’s just bad characterisation.  _

 

Oh, he knew who  _ this  _ was aimed at. He felt his feathers fluff in annoyance. They were  _ vagueing  _ about him? And for all the things they could go for, they decided to take aim at his writing. He quickly batted away a twinge of insecurity. It was his aesthetic! Who were they to judge his style? He could write Gabriel however the hell he liked!

 

He had a strange moment of dissociation where he realised he’d been thinking of himself in the third person, but he brushed it off. Obviously they thought they were just judging a character, but there was no way he couldn’t take this personally. Gabriel was offended on behalf of his fictional self. He opened up a direct message window again. 

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets-_ ** _ Look, if you’ve got a problem with my fics, just come into my comments and flame me like a normal person.  _

 

It didn’t take long for a reply to come in.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ What makes you think that post’s about your fics? Hmm it’s almost as though you know it’s a flaw in your writing _

 

And then, before Gabriel could do more than gape at his screen in disbelieving insult,

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ And it’s not that I don’t enjoy your writing, but I find your characterisation of Gabriel is off. You write him as though he’s just this candy-addicted nymphomaniac when it’s obvious that those things are shields. I was just trying to get people to appreciate that he’s clearly a much more complex character with deeper motivations! _

 

Shields!? Where were they getting this stuff? Gabriel liked sex! He loved sex! All hot people all the time! 

 

Well, the best defence was a good offence. 

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets-_ ** _ Well if you’re so high and mighty, how would you characterise Gabriel? Sensitive with a side of Single Man Tears? _

 

The jumping dots appeared under his reply. Then they stopped. 

 

Gabriel smirked. Ha! Come back to  _ that,  _ dickweed!

 

But then the dots were back, the person on the other end obviously typing furiously. Gabriel watched, waiting for the answer to appear. What the hell were they writing, an essay? A novel? An epic?

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ Of course not. He’s an archangel, a warrior. But I think that Gabriel cares a lot more than he lets on. He’s got a huge heart, even though he tries his best to hide it because he’s been hurt by people he cares about. And I think that he feels a lot of hurt about his family. I think that’s why he gets so mad at Sam and Dean in TV land, because they remind him of his brothers, but he knows that he can’t yell at them directly so Sam and Dean get the brunt of his anger instead. _

 

Gabriel winced. Not one of his better moments.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ But I think that even more than loving his brothers, Gabriel loves humanity. In the Elysian Fields motel I think it’s clear that he feels guilty that he wasn’t strong enough to protect the humans from the apocalypse, even though that was never his fault. The Winchesters should have never guilted him into it, because every time he tries to help them he ends up dead. _

 

Well, Moose wasn’t wrong. 

 

The worst part was that he did seem to have Gabriel right so far. The guy had him bang on, whoopie for him. It wasn’t even like they were using that knowledge to insult him- they were defending him, even! But there was something painfully vulnerable about somebody laying out his character like that. Something violating. Like ripping off a scab and leaving the stinging, raw emotions underneath open to the elements. 

 

And it made Gabriel angry. Suddenly, he realised that was what this feeling brewing in his chest and prickling behind his eyes was. His blood was boiling; who were these people to Know him? He hadn’t given out any of this information voluntarily!! It had been ripped from his control, the most intimate workings of his mind printed on pulp and handed out for people on the internet to pick over, like vultures at a carcass.  

 

Suddenly, the books didn’t seem so funny any more. He was starting to realise why the Winchesters had wanted them gone for all these years

 

Screw his Dad, seriously. A+ parenting all round.

 

He was about to angrily snap the laptop shut when another message popped up.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ I think all the characters tend to underestimate Gabriel, in different ways, and I think that the writer did too. I just have a lot of admiration for his character because I can relate to a lot of what he’s gone through. _

 

Gabriel deflated. These people didn’t know. They hadn’t got a clue that any of this was real. And this person in particular had obviously seen his character,  _ him _ , for who he was, but they hadn’t run screaming. They were… defending him? 

 

He stared at the screen, nonplussed. Why?

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets-_ ** _ You really like Gabriel, huh? _

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ I think it’s impossible to spend all this time getting to know about someone and not care about them. _

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets-_ ** _ and you think you know him? The real him? _

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _  I’d like to think so. Hey, sorry I came off as an asshole. And I’m sorry if I’ve been an asshole about other things as well. It’s just something I’m really passionate about. _

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets-_ ** _ That makes two of us. _

 

Gabriel quirked an ironic little smile to himself. Even here, in the underbelly of the internet, people were still reminding him why he’d always defended humanity. Their ability for change and forgiveness was something he wished angels had a hang of. He kept typing.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets-_ ** _ I guess I should apologise for the insults, even if they were super creative. And you’re not a bad writer yourself. My dad was a writer once, and you’re definitely better than him. I’m pretty new to it.  _

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ I’d be happy to give you some pointers if you’ll give me some! your smut is hot as hell ;) _

 

Gabriel laughed, properly this time. Oh, he could already tell this was going to be a very fruitful alliance.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

> **_Goldenhorns posted-_ ** _:There’s nothing weirder than seeing_ _Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets and Moose-of-Letters getting along. It’s like watching God and Satan getting pally._
> 
> **_Vatican-came0s commented:_ ** _Correction; there’s only one thing weirder than seeing_ _Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets and Moose-of-Letters getting along, and it’s seeing them give each other fic suggestions. How the hell is that even happening!?_
> 
> **_Gabes-hoe commented:_ ** _I have no idea, but they will have the most gorgeous plotty-smutty literature babies together_
> 
> **_Guess_who_lost_a_shoe commented:_ ** _I for one welcome our new fic creating overlords!_

 

Gabriel smirked as he saw the post crop up on his dash. It was definitely more entertaining watching everyone’s sudden confusion at him and Moose getting along than it ever had been when he was trying to make him angry.

 

It was the strangest friendship he’d ever made, and coming from someone who’d spent several centuries as a trickster god, that was saying something.

 

But he and Moose (as he’d insisted on calling him) had started talking more and more over the last three weeks, and the more they talked, the more Gabriel was realising that they had in common. Seeing his own character through someone else’s eyes was fascinating. And Moose was great once he’d got to know him- they might have different approaches to writing fic, not to mention the characterisation, but he was kind, level-headed, and an amazing writer with some awesome ideas. Gabriel was writing more now than he had in _months_ -

 

“Gabriel, are you even listening?” Cas’ deep voice interrupted his thoughts. Gabriel’s head jerked up to where the seraph was staring pointedly at him from in front of the throne.

 

“Hmm yeah. Uh. What?”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You are distracted again, brother. At least pretend to pay attention.”

 

But it was no use, not when his new favourite commenter popped up in his notifications. Gabriel snatched a glance at his notes between appointments. Oooh, Moose was commenting on his WIPs.

 

 **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _Love the descriptions! Maybe put a short bridging scene between them meeting in the club and getting to the shibari, though? The transition feels a little abrupt._

 

Gabriel nodded to himself. Moose was right, it did need another scene in there before it got to the bondage part- he’d do that later. But working on his ever-growing library would have to wait. He turned his phone to silent, stowing it in a pocket. It was almost time for the weekly appointment he looked forward to and dreaded in equal measure; going to visit Sam.

 

.o0o.

 

Sam had spent most of the morning alternating between frantically researching or repeatedly checking his phone. He’d been trying to keep himself busy enough with making protective hex bags for the new hunters and betaing Trickster’s latest WIP that he could stay calm and prepare himself for Gabriel's weekly visit. But he still didn’t feel either calm or prepared when the beating of wings filled the kitchen.

 

Gabriel appeared with a _pop_ in front of him, tugging the collar of that leather jacket he favoured these days back into place. The archangel nodded at him, looking him up and down. “Sam.”

 

“Gabe.” Internally, Sam winced. Was ‘Gabe’ too informal? It felt too informal. Oh shit, was it something he’d picked up from everything he’d been reading? He didn’t know any more! Fanfiction wasn't reality, he _knew that damnit,_ but sometimes it just slipped out-

 

Gabriel, thankfully, didn’t seem to have noticed his internal struggle. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his arms swinging stiffly at his sides as he looked around the kitchen like he felt the awkwardness as keenly as Sam did.

 

The silence stretched out painfully. Sam had to say something. Anything.

 

“How are you?” he blurted, at the same time as Gabriel said, “So, wotcha been doing down here?”

  
  
Sam snapped his mouth shut. Gabriel smirked, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Ladies first.”

 

Normally, this would be where Sam would be able to relax and fire back something witty before they got down to business. But some fanart Sam had seen of Gabriel posing in an extremely short skirt and silky, lacy lingerie under it appeared behind his eyes like a goddamn real life pop-up.

 

Sam cleared his throat, shaking it off. “So, about the new recruits…”

 

They managed to get through most of Sam’s updates on the new hunters without him embarrassing himself, which Sam thought was a serious achievement. At some point they moved to sit at the kitchen table, Sam with his hands clasped in front of him. Gabriel was fiddling absentmindedly with one of the pieces of string Sam had been using to make the hex bags while Sam talked. “So yeah, we managed to get that demon nest cleared up before they could kill anyone else. I was worried we might have something more powerful on our hands, but it looks like it was just a very charismatic leader. I think he was running for candidacy for the king of hell.”

 

Gabriel nodded as he listened to Sam intently, twirling the string between his fingers, snapping it tight before letting it go slack again. “Good. As long as everyone downstairs is still distracted, we should be able to get established before they rally.” He glanced up. Was Sam imagining the way that tawny gaze softened when Gabriel looked at him? Was he searching for fondness that wasn’t there? He couldn’t tell any more.

 

Gabriel sat back with a dramatic sigh. “We’re nearly good to go up there, the souls and heavens are finally stable but I’m still trying to find another angel apart from Cassie with more personality than a banana skin…”

 

Sam found his attention trailing off, Gabriel’s hands holding his gaze, those clever fingers twisting and pulling at the thread. A scene flashed past his eyes from Trickster’s latest fic that he’d read just that morning-

 

> _Gabriel gave one last tug on the ropes, pulling them tight. He looked down in satisfaction at the intricate series of loops holding his lover exactly where he wanted him- bent over the bed, legs slightly spread, back arched beautifully. An entire smorgasbord of skin, all laid out for him to enjoy._
> 
> _Sam whined behind his gag. Gabriel could see him testing the knots, flexing his arms where they were tied behind his back, but he knew they would hold. Those tanned muscular thighs, gleaming with sweat, were straining against the ropes, but he was rocking against the silk sheets in a way that made it very clear he was still helplessly turned on._
> 
> _Gabriel rested one hand against his back, stilling him. Slowly, he soothed the hand  upwards, and Sam melted at the contact. Finally he relaxed into the ropes’ embrace. The sight of Sam so willingly submitting himself to Gabriel’s complete control fanned the hunger burning in his gut flare into a roar-_

 

“Sam? Hey, gigantor! Anybody home?”

 

Sam jerked, his eyes flashing guiltily to Gabriel’s. Gabriel raised a questioning eyebrow. Sam, to his mortification, felt himself flush scarlet. Gabriel’s eyebrow nearly disappeared into his hair.

 

Damn it, Sam, get it together! “Just… uh…” Sam cleared his throat. “Just thinking about demons. Uuuh, about going back to look for any we missed. Just in case. And we’re going to hunt wha I’m pretty sure is a chupacabra later, so… yeah. That as well.”

 

“Okay,” Gabriel still looked dubious. “Aaanyway, I gotta be getting back. The cherubs get jittery without someone telling them what to do every second of every day. But I should be back same time next week. What day is it again?”

 

Sam felt a lead weight form in his gut. He had to know, didn’t he? But time ran differently in heaven.

 

“It’s… it’s a Tuesday.” He couldn’t help the way his voice stuttered on that last word. Even after all these years, Dean still had to change the station whenever Asia came on the radio.

 

Sam saw Gabriel’s eyes widen. He froze awkwardly, his usual confident smirk slipping. Sam had no doubt that they were both thinking of the same thing- the six months that Sam had spent trapped in that time loop. The silence thickened.

 

Gabriel opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, grimaced, and Sam waited, his breath catching for a drawn-out second. Were they finally going to talk about this?

 

Then Gabriel closed it again in a huff. Sam tried not to show his slump of disappointment.

 

“So, same time next week?”

 

“Yeah, see you-” there was a flurry of flapping and Gabriel disappeared, “-next week,” Sam sighed.

 

He rubbed his face tiredly with one hand. Well, that could have gone better. Time to drown his sorrows in fanfiction before Dean carted him off to hunt that chupacabra.

 

.o0o.

 

Gabriel was in too deep, and he knew it.

 

He scowled at his latest WIP. He’d retreated to his favourite spot in the Garden and pulled up the kinkmeme prompt as soon as he got back from his little trip earth-side in the hope that it would drive any residual anxiety out of his brain. No luck there. This was supposed to be porn, Dad-damn it!  So why were they still talking? Why were they having a meaningful conversation instead of getting down and dirty? Where the hell had all these _feelings_ come from?

 

He leaned back against the trunk of the nearest tree, staring out moodily across the sunlit clearing and the vast forest beyond. The problem, he grumbled to himself, was what had happened that afternoon. He had put his foot in his mouth, again. Which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. There weren’t that many safe topics outside of work when it came to Sam.

 

And he had wanted to talk to Sam about Mystery Spot this time, he had! He wanted to move past this. He’d tried to get the words out. But as usual, he’d frozen, and his cowardice had won out. And then he’d run away. What the hell had he been thinking!?

 

Sam was his friend. Probably his last friend outside of heaven (well, apart from Moose). Sam had seen him at his lowest, cleaned him up and taken out those damn stitches, brought him back from being locked within his own mind, taken his side repeatedly while they were fighting Loki, hell, even jumped in front of him to deflect Michael’s blade during that last desperate battle in the apocalypse world. Gabriel had hurt him, and he wanted to fix it, but he just couldn’t get the words out. He knew a relationship like the ones he and Moose were writing about was off the cards, but he was desperate even to keep his friendship alive with Sam, because Dad knew he didn’t deserve it. He had to make the most of this while it lasted.

 

A gentle breeze stirred around him. He took a deep breath of the sweet air, looking out into the once-busy emptiness of heaven. He was weak. In more ways than one.

 

Well, if he couldn’t apologise to Sam, at least fictional him could. Maybe it was time to take a leaf out of Moose’s book.

 

.o0o.

 

Sam bolted up the stairs, flinging himself into the nearest room and looking around wildly. Unfortunately it looked like it was a dead end- the window of the deserted shack was too small to squeeze through. Should he go and try another room?

 

But he was too late. The sound of the chupacabra they were hunting climbing it’s way up the stairs reached him. _Shit!_ He’d have to hide.

 

Sam looked around, spotting a cupboard in the corner. He grimaced, climbing in. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Silently, he pulled the doors shut behind himself.

 

The creature reached the top of the stairs. There was a muted clicking of claws on wood. The overloaded groan of a floorboard.

 

The chupacabra stopped. It sniffed the air. Through the tiny gap between the doors, Sam could see its forked tongue flickering out to taste, bulging eyes peering around the room. Sam held his breath and hoped that its hearing wasn’t sharp enough to pick up his heart thumping against his ribs.

 

It hitched in a breath, and sneezed violently. Sam flinched. His grip on his machete was so tight that he was sure his knuckles were turning white. It snorted, shaking itself with a rattle of spines.

 

With another grunt, it turned to leave. Sam dared to take the thinnest breath. His muscles relaxed just slightly.

 

_PING!_

 

The monster whirled. It’s lamplight eyes pinpointed the cupboard. Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket with the notification and had a moment to screw his eyes shut. _Fuck!_ Why hadn’t he turned it off when they started!?

 

Luckily, at that moment, Dean’s war cry split the air and the creature whirled the other way, shrieking as Dean’s knife caught it in the shoulder. Sam leapt from the cupboard, machete already swinging. He could berate himself later. Right now, he had bigger fish to fry.

 

…

 

“Was the flamethrower really necessary?”

 

Dean looked back in satisfaction at the smoking remains of the shack. “The flamethrower is always necessary.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes, sliding into the front seat. He hoped he got soot on the upholstery.

 

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he was relieved to see that it didn’t appear to have been damaged in the fight. The screen was still whole. He powered it on, and there it was, the notification that had nearly got him killed.

 

> **_Archive Of Our Own_ **
> 
> _[AO3] Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets just posted a new work :)_

 

Sam groaned. Fanfiction was literally going to be the death of him.

 

.o0o.

 

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters commented:_ ** _Hey, I like the new fic, it’s different from your usual. Sorry I didn’t comment earlier, I was a bit distracted._

 

Gabriel smiled as he opened his email. His new favourite commenter had picked up on it, because of course they had.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Yeah, guess this fic is your influence ;)_

 

It had stuck with him, that conversation with Sam. Or rather, the parts of it that hadn’t happened. He’d been thinking about it, really thinking about it, in the times between his heavenly appointments.

 

Re-reading the book featuring Mystery Spot from Sam’s point of view had been quite an eye-opener. He’d been so focused, the first time, on getting Sam to _stop_ that he hadn’t truly realised what he was doing to him in his desperation. It had made him wonder- what would he do, if he could go back and change it all? Knowing what he did now, would he have been able to make a difference? He thought he might.

 

And if he were to talk to Sam about it now, what could he ever say to apologise to Sam for what he’d done to him?

 

A lot of that had made it onto the page. It was heavier than what he usually wrote, but somehow Gabriel felt lighter for it.

 

There was a soft _ping_ as another message appeared.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _About the Mystery Spot, do you really think that Gabriel was doing any of that for Sam?_
> 
>  

Gabriel sighed. He should have known that Moose would want to talk characterisation. What should he say?

 

Well, there was nothing stopping him from telling the truth. It wasn’t like Moose could tattle to anyone.

>   
>  **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _I think he was doing that all for Sam. Gabriel was just trying to prepare Sam for Dean’s inevitable death- he knew the apocalypse was about to go down, remember? He knew what was coming, and he was trying to avert it._

 

Gabriel bit his lip, his fingers pausing over the keyboard. Was he really gonna pour his heart out to random strangers on the internet? Really?

 

But now he started, he just couldn’t seem to stop his fingers. And anyway, Moose wasn’t really a stranger at this point.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Gabriel couldn’t go to Sam directly because he’s got a soft spot for him. He likes him. He doesn’t like seeing humans get hurt who don’t deserve it, and the fact that his brothers are gonna cause so much destruction and he can’t do a thing to stop it is breaking his heart. That bit at the end where he gives in? He just couldn’t do it anymore, Sam out-stubborns him. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stand to see Sam hurting, and in the end? That’s why he failed. His love for humans is his weakness, the way he cares for Sam in particular._

 

There. It was out.

 

Gabriel pushed his laptop away, closing his eyes and resting his face in his hands. He needed a moment.

 

.o0o.

 

Sam sat back. Huh.

 

He honestly hadn’t expected Trickster’s first foray into more serious fics to be much good. Not because he couldn’t write- obviously he could, his work had been featuring heavily in Sam’s spank bank (as Dean would call it) for months now. Heavy-hitting just wasn’t his speciality, that was all.

 

But he had written it. And it was _good_.

 

It was emotional, and raw, and almost painfully in-character. Gabriel’s confession, his betrayal and his grief and anger and guilt were all so _real_ that Sam wondered if Trickster had gone through something similar in his own life. He hadn’t been able to resist asking what Trickster thought Gabriel’s motivations were. He wished he could be as sure as Trickster was that Mystery Spot had been about Gabriel trying to save him. And he secretly doubted that Gabriel had given up his attempt because he _cared_ for him. Not in real life.

 

But he could let himself live this fantasy for just a little longer, couldn’t he? He felt a pang in his heart that he was never going to have this conversation with Gabriel himself. This was probably as close as he was ever gonna get.  

 

Slowly, Sam started typing.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _Well, I think you’re right about Sam being stubborn. But it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault that Sam didn’t learn that lesson- I don’t think he ever would have. He was in too deep to ever realise what Gabriel was trying to say._

 

Sam hesitated, biting his lip. He started typing again.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _I think they would both have been a lot happier if Gabriel had been able to get through to him. I wish it had gone like your fic in canon._

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _You and me both, Moose._

 

Sam smiled sadly. If only.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _I’m not sure you’re right about Gabriel’s mercy being his weakness though. His love for humanity is what makes him different from his brothers. It’s what makes him human, what gives him a soul- it’s the thing that really drew me to his character in the first place. His love for humans might put him in the firing line, but I think it’s one of his greatest strengths as well. And I think his incredible empathy (even though he often tries to hide it) is one of the reasons why Sam would love him, as well as everything else they have in common. When it comes down to it, he’s ready to lay down everything for humanity too. They’re really kindred spirits._

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Aww, Moose, stop it with the sad headcanons, you’re bringing a tear to my eye._

 

Sam blinked back his own emotions, lodged heavy in his throat. Then he had a thought and grinned.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _Maybe if you’re trying angst I should give smut a go :P_

 

And, really, everything went downhill from there.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boy. That was a whole lotta writer's block! Fingers crossed it's almost out of my system now though, because I have another 10k to go at least before I'm done here!

 

Gabriel thought he might actually be crying. He hadn't laughed like this for _aeons_. 

 

Cas looked down at him from where he was standing next to the throne, his forehead all crinkled and serious with concern. “Are you alright, brother? You look like you’re choking.”

 

Gabriel waved him off, still trying to catch his breath between hiccups. “I’m… Whoo!... I’m alright, Cassie. Back off, would ya? No need to Heimlich me just yet.”

 

He wiped a stray tear and looked back down at his phone, in particular the doc he’d agreed to beta for Moose. _He_ might not need it yet, but there was plenty of mouth-to-mouth going on in this fic. And not the good kind, either.

 

The phrase that had set him off caught his eye once more.

 

 

> _His engorged, inescapable love rod-_

 

Nope. There he went again.

 

Another helpless wheeze burst out of him. He was laughing so hard it was almost _painful,_ bent forwards over his throne, eyes scrunched shut, rendered helpless and breathless by Moose's terrible smut.

 

When he finally calmed down enough to breathe properly again, he looked up to find Castiel looking at him like he wanted to ask what the hell was going on. But a second later he visibly decided against it, shaking his head. Wise seraph. Gabriel grinned. Maybe his little brother was learning after all.

 

Turning back to his phone, Gabriel highlighted he guilty paragraph to comment on it.

 

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_** _NO NO NO! Just use cock ffs!_

 

He chuckled again to himself. How could somebody who was such a good writer be so bad at writing smut? It didn’t make sense!

 

Having said that, if he ignored the purple prose, it wasn’t awful. It just needed… pruning. A lot of pruning. He snickered his way through the rest of the scene, peppering in pointers before a kerfuffle outside the throne room made his head snap up. There was shouting, somebody yelling for quiet. Gabriel scrabbled to hide his phone. What was going _on_ out there? 

 

There was a loud _bang-_ Gabriel jumped (well, okay, fine, he _flinched_ )- and then the sound of raised voices again. Then ominous silence.

 

Cas was alert , standing protectively in front of him, knees braced, blade out and at the ready. Gabriel could feel his heart beating faster, his breath coming shallower. Yet he was frozen where he sat. _Don't move,_ whispered his pathetic, treacherous brain, _Don't move, don't make a noise or He'll find you!!_ He tried to push the cloying fear down, but even without that, he knew that his grace was still depleted. He wasn’t ready for a fight!

 

The doors of the throne room burst open, and Gabriel flinched back hard enough to bruise his vessel's back against the throne. Hands shoved a terrified-looking cherub through, then quickly withdrew and the door slammed shut again. The cherub fluttered nervously, evidently reluctant to get any closer.

 

“My lord Gabriel!” It squeaked.

 

His order for them not to call him ‘My Lord’ was still being ignored, evidently. But at least his irritation was quickly overpowering the instinctive terror.

 

Cas stood down. Gabriel sighed, deflating, already embarrassed by his overreaction. He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Yeah? What is it?”

 

“There’s… there’s something in the garden! The others- they want you to come and remove it!”

 

Something in the garden? _What the hell could it be?_  Gabriel worried to himself as he jumped up from the throne, anxiety peaking again as he hurried to the door, Cas hot on his heels. Was it something escaped from Purgatory? A hell beast, maybe? A dark monster from the pit?

 

…

 

“So let’s get this straight. You called me all the way out here because there’s a _dog_ in the garden?”

 

Gabriel had his arms crossed, scowling at the attending angels hiding behind him. The dog in question was ignoring the crowds of angels all watching it with wide, fearful eyes. The little black-and-white terrier sniffed a tree, then cocked its leg. There were gasps. Even a few whimpers.

 

Viruviel, the seraph at the front and the one in charge of the panicked crowd, bristled. “It’s still alive! It shouldn’t be here! It has been… _befouling_ the place! I tried to remove it, but whenever I did it started making the most cursed racket! And as well as that, there’s clearly magic all over it!”

 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Well of course there is! He’s _mine!_ ” To illustrate, he stepped forwards. The dog looked towards him. Immediately its ears perked, and it came trotting over, stumpy tail wagging its entire back end. Gabriel grinned, bending to rumple its ears. “Did you give mean Viruviel a big scare, Arthur? Did you? Where have you been, little buddy? Did you have fun peeing on all the trees?” He looked up at the crowd from where he was still bent over. “This is Arthur, I’ve had him for decades, might have laid a little life-extension mojo on him, hence the magic. He was stuck in one of my pocket universes for _years_ while you all thought I was dead _,_ so I figured the little rascal deserved a run around!”

 

Viruviel’s frown deepened. “But… but… but it can’t be here!”

 

“Why not?”

  
  
“It’s just…” Viruviel stammered, then rallied belligerently. “We’ve never done it before! It’s the rules! Nothing living is allowed in heaven!”

 

Gabriel let his eyes narrow, his irritation growing in the wake of his panic in the throne room. “Apart from when it’s convenient to drag the Winchesters up here for the latest grand plot, am I right?” He glanced around at the sea of uncertain, mulish faces. “Look; you all need to be more flexible. Make like one of those flailing tube men and relax a little. Take the sticks out of your asses, because if you wanna survive in this new post-Dad world? You’re gonna want to adapt to new things a lot better.”

 

He turned back to the dog. Well, Arthur couldn’t stay here. He wasn’t confident leaving his dog alone like that in hostile territory.

 

But then he remembered something- had it been fic or the supernatural books themselves where Sam ran off and got himself a dog? No, it must have been one of Moose’s fics. No way would those pulpy books ever have managed to conjure up the love Sam had felt for the creature, or the heartache when his dad had ripped it away again.

 

He scooped Arthur up, his back still to the confused angels. “Come on, buddy, I know just the place for ya.”

 

...

 

Gabriel alighted with an uncertain flutter in the bunker library.

 

He looked around. He could have sworn he’d seen Sam’s soul in here.

 

“Sam?”

 

There was a thump and a curse. Sam staggered out from behind the bookshelves, looking rumpled, rubbing the top of his head.

 

“Gabriel! You’re here!”

 

Gabriel fidgeted. “Uh, yeah.” Out of Sam’s sight, his wings ruffled, fluffing up. He tried to ignore them. Sam couldn't see them, remember? Just act natural. “There’s something…”

 

Suddenly, he was uncertain. Had the fic been right? Did Sam even like dogs? Maybe Moose had been wrong! Maybe Sam was a cat person! Maybe-

 

He cut himself off. He had to do it, NOW, before he lost his nerve.

 

“Hey, could ya do me a favor?” He blurted. He thrust Arthur out in front of himself. As soon as Arthur saw Sam, his butt started wriggling and he started pawing at the air to escape Gabriel and get to him. The little traitor.

 

Sam’s eyes widened, his face softening into a genuine smile as he reached forwards and scooped the dog into his own arms. Arthur wriggled in paroxysms of delight as he stretched to try and lick his chin. “Who’s this?”

 

“This is Arthur. He’s mine. Heaven’s not particularly pet-friendly at the moment, but I figured, hey, you like dogs, so he’d be best off with you.”

 

Sam looked up at him, and for the first time ever, the full force of that dimpled smile hit Gabriel like Thor’s hammer to the chest. “Thanks! I’ve always wanted a dog, how did you know?”

 

“You seem like a dog person, is all.” Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it was no big deal even as his stomach twisted itself into knots. “And hey, Jack might like him, right? Kids like dogs, don’t they? But don’t thank me now, he’s a little shit.”

 

Sam laughed his deep, rich laugh, and Gabriel swore he felt his heart melt into his sneakers. Either that or that was all the blood in his body heading southwards. To his mortification, there was an audible rustle of feathers as his wings fluffed themselves out of their own accord like some kind of displaying peacock. Sam’s head turned, one eyebrow quirking in confusion as he tried to pinpoint the source of the noise.

 

“Good, I’ve… I gotta go,” he stuttered. He saw Sam open his mouth, looking surprised, but he was already gone.

 

He landed back in the throne room with his hands still shaking.

 

Why had he taken off like that? He hadn’t even said goodbye for Dad’s sake! And it was just as well Sam couldn’t see wings. Gabriel was glad there was nobody else in the throne room, either- he was already a humiliatingly poor ruler, he didn’t need this embarrassment on top of everything else. He turned his head to give his wings a dirty look, but the golden feathers weren’t paying any attention to him, still ruffled into their ridiculous, ineffective courtship display.

 

He nodded to himself, turning back to look at the empty room. “Smooth, Gabriel, smooth. Uuuuugh.” He let his head drop onto the side of the throne with a solid _thunk_.

 

Why was life always so much easier in fanfiction?

 

 

.o0o.

 

Well, that had been a little abrupt.

 

Sam stared mournfully at the empty space where Gabriel had been half a second before. The dog in his arms wriggled, and Sam bent to put him down. The terrier wagged his stumpy little tail, turning a circle to put his paws onto Sam’s boots. Sam looked down at the enthusiastic little creature, still deep in thought.

 

He couldn’t blame Gabriel for his reluctance to be in his presence- Sam obviously made him uncomfortable, though Gabriel was trying unsuccessfully to hide it. Maybe Sam was a reminder of how he’d been when he came back from Asmodeus? If anyone could understand not wanting to revisit past trauma, it would be Sam.

 

But even if it wasn’t that, whatever the reason, Sam wasn’t going to force Gabriel to stick around when he was so obviously in distress, even if it was slowly shattering any little bits of hope his heart had left.

 

Sam frowned to himself. Gabriel’s comfort was what mattered here, he reminded himself sternly. It didn’t matter what kind of crush Sam had on the guy, he wasn’t going to compromise his mental health. If Sam really loved him, he would let him go.

 

But whenever he would try and tell himself this, whenever he would try to snip away those last little pieces of hope, something like today's events would happen.

 

The dog (Arthur, wasn’t it?) looked up at him, head cocked to one side. One ear flopped adorably inside-out.

 

He reached down to correct it, smiling as Arthur licked his hands. "Oh, you like me, don't you, boy?" He already had Sam wrapped around his paws, and he knew it. Sam had always wanted a dog.

 

It could have been a coincidence. But… the dog obviously meant a lot to Gabriel, judging by the way he’d looked after him. Gabriel could have put him back in a pocket universe with everything a dog could want. But he hadn’t. Even the fact that he was willing to entrust Arthur to Sam’s care meant _something_ , even if Sam wasn’t sure what.

 

How had Gabriel known he loved dogs? Could he have read…?

 

No. Sam shook his head, grinning to himself. Now _that_ would be impossible.

 

He should try not to read too much into this, he decided. After all, him writing sabriel was one thing, but Gabriel trying to woo him in real life? Ha!

 

Loads of people liked dogs. Gabriel giving him exactly what he’d dreamed of for years was a weird coincidence, but hey. Stranger things had happened.

 

This was real life, remember Sam? Real life. Not fanfiction.

 

He reached down and gave the dog  a solid pat, smiling sadly to himself. “Never mind, buddy. At least I’ve got you.”

 

Arthur gave a happy bark.

 

Dean’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Is that a fucking dog?”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ God, they’re just so frustrating you know? They WILL NOT stop pining! They’ve done NOTHING for chapters and the tension is killing me. _

 

Gabriel looked at his phone when it buzzed with the incoming message and smiled for the first time that morning. He’d finally managed to escape the rest of the angels- they’d all been even more wary of him after the dog fiasco- and he wasn’t too proud to admit that he was hiding from everyone. This particular heaven had rapidly become his favourite.

 

“Hey man, you want another one?”

 

“Thanks, Ash.” Gabriel looked up at the soul and grinned as another beer slid down the bar towards him. They knew who he was, of course- there was no hiding his true nature here, wings, halo, glowing eyes and all. Most of the hunters who frequented the place were still wary of him, but Jo and Ash had relaxed once they realised he meant no harm. Even Ellen, who had a habit of polishing glasses threateningly in his direction with her steely gaze flicking deliberately from him to the shotgun under the bar, knew that he was their only source of information from the outside world. It was an equal trade- news from the bunker in exchange for getting away from his siblings’ overwhelming problems and his own ridiculous angst about his relationship with Sam.

 

He took a sip of the beer. He’d been trying to slowly get some of the other angels on board with the idea of communal heavens. Sometimes he thought they forgot that humans were as social creatures as they were- keeping them locked in their own company wasn’t good for them. But the angels were, as ever, slow to change. Progress was rare.

 

Honestly, he thought to himself, the only area of his life that he felt like he was making  _ any  _ progress in at the moment was with writing fanfiction.

 

He sighed and tapped out a quick reply to Moose.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _ This is why I prefer writing PWPs ;) so much less frustration, they can just jump in and do the dirty, none of this feelings business _

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ Don’t lie, you’ve told me you love reading my slow burns _

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _ Caught me red handed, Moose :P _

 

Gabriel took another long sip of his beer, momentarily looking up from his phone as the door opened and another group of hunters walked in. The man in the lead froze, his eyes going wide as he spotted Gabriel perched on his bar stool. The chatter stopped. There was a scuffle as the hunters all crammed themselves back out the door again. Gabriel tucked his wings tighter around himself, ignoring the sinking feeling and the sympathetic look from Jo, and stared determinedly back down at the screen.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ How do you even write smut? How do you do it? _

 

Gabriel grinned despite himself.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _ Pure expertise ;) It’s all the practice I’ve had! _

 

The dots jumped. He watched them with anticipation.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ What, even the one with the tentacles? _

 

Gabriel chortled quietly, just replying with a winky face _.  _ Oh, if only he knew.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ lmao! Guess I’ll have to practice more then ;) _

 

Gabriel laughed with glee. Oho, they were flirting, were they? This was a game he definitely wasn’t going to lose! But before he could respond with a suitably witty pick-up line, Moose butted in again.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters-_ ** _ How do you feel about wing-kink? _

 

Oh, Gabriel knew he liked that idea a little  _ too  _ much. Just the thought of Sam’s hands on his feathers, stroking through them made Gabriel’s traitorous wings ruffle themselves once more of their own accord. The damn things were hair-trigger these days. It was like being a century old all over again! Gabriel deliberately ignored them.

 

“You got a mite in your feathers, lover boy?”

 

Gabriel turned to scowl at the old soul who was sitting a little way down the bar, watching him with knowing amusement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Sure you don’t.”

 

“Shut it, Singer.” He huffed and lifted his wings, shaking the feathers out to settle them. Why couldn’t he stop obsessing over the dirty things he wanted Sam to do to him?

 

Gabriel frowned to himself. Wait, no, that wasn’t it exactly. Yes, he did want to climb Sam like a tree (obviously, who wouldn’t), he wanted those big hands rough on his vessel, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that under all the lust there was something… something else. 

 

Something small and fragile and easily-crushed growing around the centre of his being. The desire to have those same large hands touch him gently, run through his hair, groom his feathers. The longing for intimacy- the brush of a hand against his, the chuckle of an in-joke, the nudge of a shoulder. He wanted to bask in the warmth of that body curled around him, the brilliant brightness of that soul lying next to his.

 

If Gabriel was less cynical, he might have called it love. 

 

He drew himself back with a scoff, shaking his head. He was being ridiculous! Him, an archangel, do something as human and squishy as  _ fall in love? _ He was almost affronted at the thought. But he didn’t want those sorts of things, he wasn’t  _ built _ to want them. He didn’t want affection. He didn’t  _ cuddle _ . That sort of emotion wasn’t for a thing like him. 

 

Lust? Sure. Lust was about vessels, and he was a master of the pleasures of the flesh. And he held a certain level of detached affection for humanity in general.

 

But Love, the personal, caring, jump-in-front-of-a-blade-for-you, domestic-bliss kind of love? That was something completely different. It was for souls, not grace. 

 

And that was good! Love was a weak spot, he thought with a pang, and Dad knew Gabriel didn’t need any more of those.

 

But those insidious thoughts, those desires, kept creeping in. He glanced down at Moose’s words on his phone and felt a goofy smile creep onto his lips as that slow-burning warmth ate through his ribs and thawed his long-frozen heart.

 

Okay, so it was definitely Love. Dad-dammit. 

 

But was he falling in love with Sam? Or was he falling in love with the fictional version of Sam? Or with Moose himself? What was  _ happening  _ to him? 

 

Gabriel groaned under his breath. It was all one tangled mess. And it felt like the threads were only pulling tighter and tighter, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t escape this trap of his own making. Reading about yourself falling in love with someone again and again had to wear off at some point, he thought with grumpy resignation.

 

“Dude, why’s he staring at the screen like that?”

 

“Ignore him,” Bobby grunted. “He’s twitterpated. He just doesn’t want to admit it to anybody.”

 

Gabriel ignored them all.

 

.o0o.

 

“You get water on that thing, you pay for a new one.” 

 

Sam pointedly ignored Dean, angling his laptop away, then grimacing as the movement reminded him of just how damp and cold and clingy his jeans were. He knew Dean was right- it probably wasn’t a good idea to expose his tech to water damage, but right now, Sam was writing in an attempt to forget his latest near-death experience. To hell with wet denim. Almost drowning in a lake full of kelpies wasn’t his idea of a fun weekend away. He’d be glad to get back to the bunker tonight.

 

He’d been writing even more than usual for the last fortnight, enough that Dean and Cas had started to look at him funny and he kept having to fend off Jack’s curious questions about what he was doing. But there was something about this particular project with Trickster that Sam just couldn’t put down. 

 

They had talked more and more these past few weeks. At first it was just about fic, working through their writing and characterisation and bemoaning the plot holes in canon with one another.  A message like  _ hey, headcanon that Sam can see Gabriel’s wings with those holy-oil-treated glasses _ could quickly turn into an hour long plotting session, and before they knew it they’d written 20k, then 30k, their styles blending seamlessly into a whole.

 

But slowly it was becoming something more. Trickster listened to Sam’s grumbling about his brother, and in turn confided his issues with what sounded like his enormous and quarrelsome extended family. Sam found himself telling Trickster things he hadn’t told anyone for years. 

 

It started so slowly that Sam hadn’t realised what was happening at first, but the day came when he raised his head from his phone, still smirking at Trickster’s latest outrageous crackfic, and realised that they had became friends. Firm friends. 

 

Trickster made Sam laugh. He was flirty and crude and ridiculous, and the Gabriel he wrote was the same. And his smut made Sam hot around the collar, but more often than not he found himself just smiling gently at the screen, or scrolling back through their conversations to linger over his words. Sam knew he probably should have been more worried about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to be wary of something that felt so good. So  _ natural _ . 

 

And his new friendship was especially welcome in light of the tense atmosphere whenever Sam met the actual Gabriel. There was still that strange tension between them, and instead of fading, it seemed to be getting progressively worse. Gabriel was getting more and more edgy in his presence. He was downright jumpy, constantly shifting, not meeting Sam’s eyes, and always accompanied by the rustle of feathers shifting in discomfort, like he was always one sudden movement away from taking flight. Sam couldn’t think of anything he could do to make it better. Worse, despite Sam carefully backing off, the crush he’d had on the archangel had blown into full-on infatuation, and he was finding it progressively more difficult to hide it. 

 

The screen bounced slightly on his knees as the impala went over a pothole. Sam blinked, refocusing on the screen and the doc in front of him. Come on, Sam, focus. He’d been editing this paragraph before he got distracted. 

 

Was he waffling here? He felt like he was waffling. He scowled to himself. The keys clacked as he backspaced, deleting the last sentence. He rewrote it. Better. 

 

It helped that Trickster had given him some pointers and helped him out with the dialogue in this section. If it had just been him, he was sure it wouldn’t have been half as good- his smut still always felt so stilted.  _ You’re thinking about it too much _ , Trickster had told him, but Sam couldn’t help it. He wanted it to be good! (and just maybe, he admitted to himself, he was trying to impress Trickster with it.)

 

Scrolling back up to the top of the paragraph, he reread the scene.

 

> _ In front of him, Gabriel got slowly to his knees, shucking off his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt over muscular forearms. His intense golden gaze drove Sam back against the elevator doors, leaning against them for support. God, he hoped there weren’t any cameras in here. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Your honour-” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “We’re not in the courtroom now, Sammy,” Gabriel hushed him, unzipping his slacks. “If we’re gonna be stuck in here for an hour, I’m gonna make the most of it. Let’s see if we can get that big lawyer brain to shut off for a hot minute.” He reached in, releasing him from his underwear. Sam was already fully hard, he realised to his own surprise; almost aching with it, the tip of his cock already glistening with precome. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ There was a distinctly hungry look in Gabriel’s eye as he stroked him from root to tip, making his hips jerk with futile desire. Sam couldn’t stop the desperate whine from slipping past his lips. Gabriel grinned, his eyes flicking back up to his. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ “Gabriel- we can’t-” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Gabriel smirked that wicked smirk of his. “Let me be the judge of that.” _
> 
>  
> 
> _ He leaned forwards, slurping at the- _

 

“You got a girlfriend or something?”

 

Sam snapped the laptop shut so fast he nearly broke the screen. “Huh? What?”

 

Dean shot him a suspicious glance before turning back to the road. It was just as well it was dark. Sam could feel his blush burning in his ears. 

 

“You’re always typing on that laptop. Who you messaging?” Dean had that look he always got when he knew there was something going on but he couldn’t work it out. 

 

“Just… just the other hunters,” Sam replied lamely. Dean’s raised eyebrow told him he’d have to do better than that. “I’m gonna start a newsletter,” he blurted, wildly improvising.

 

“A newsletter? Seriously?”

 

Sam shrugged. Dean shook his head, looking back at the road, obviously deciding to let it go.

 

“Whatever, man. I swear you get more nerdy by the day.”

 

Sam shifted, hiding his lap with his computer. Great. This was going to be a long, long drive.

 

.........

 

The rest of the car journey seemed to take a geological age. By the time the Impala’s headlights swung over the concrete exterior of the bunker, Sam was sure that his damp clothes had given him chafing in places he’d never wanted to chafe. Even Dean barely grunted at him before shuffling off towards their rooms.

 

Sam slouched in from the garage after Dean, trying his best not to make too much noise as he walked down the main corridor. It was 4am and everyone was asleep. He should by all rights have been exhausted- he’d just cleared out a lakeful of kelpies and then driven for ten hours, but there was still a buzz of restlessness in his veins. 

 

He dumped his duffel in his room and headed straight for the shower. He could smell the lake water on himself, and he was pretty sure he had pond weed in his hair still. He would rather not have infected kelpie scratches, thanks. 

 

It was only once he was under the pounding, steamy warmth of the bunker’s excellent water pressure that Sam’s mind started to wander again. 

 

He thought back to what he’d been reading earlier before he had been interrupted- he was definitely getting better at writing smut, even he could see it. And with Trickster pitching in, those scenes were…  _ well, they were hot, okay?  _ He admitted to himself with a guilty thrill. 

 

Sam bit his lip. It didn’t help that Trickster’s dialogue was perfect- he could imagine those exact words coming out of Gabriel’s mouth.

 

Without really thinking about it, his hand drifted lower, grazing down his chest, across his stomach. What would Gabriel really be like? He wondered absentmindedly. Would he be as confident as he always made out, swaggering around Sam’s bedroom as though he owned the place? Or would he be more unsure, let Sam take the lead?

 

He closed a hand around himself, stroking slowly, squeezing, not letting himself rush it. Maybe, maybe he’d shove Sam down on the bed, hold him there with grace. Or maybe he wouldn’t need to. Maybe he’d hold him there with his bare hands. Sam knew that compact body was stronger than it looked, but either way he wouldn’t let Sam up no matter how he squirmed. He could almost see his smirk, hear him saying,  _ getting impatient are we, Sammy? Do I need to get out the ropes? Or are you gonna be good for me? _

 

He stroked himself faster, breath starting to come fast and hard. He could hold him down with that supernatural strength, but he wouldn’t need to, Sam could be good, he would stay where Gabriel put him. And then Gabriel would climb up on top and lean down to kiss him, tug his hair to pull his head back grind, grind,  _ grind  _ down into him until they were both gasping (his hand clenched tight around his dick at the thought and Sam bit back a real-life gasp), and Sam would bite at the soft skin of his neck, run his hands all over him, (maybe even through his  _ wings, yes- _ ) and then if Sam did it right he’d come hot all over Sam’s belly, wing-shadows flickering on the walls and eyes glowing startled-blue, all the archangel bits bursting through the seams of him and glowing like the sun-

 

Sam came hard against the shower wall, his muscles locking up, mouth open on a silent yell. Another wave hit him as soon as he recovered, and he stroked himself through the aftershocks before slumping forwards.

 

He leaned his arm against the slick chill of the tiles in the dizzy aftermath, resting his head heavily against it as he breathed. He blinked, dazedly watching the water slowly wash his come off the wall. His legs felt distinctly wobbly. He hadn’t come as hard as that in… well, years probably.

 

That had been... unexpected. 

 

Almost as soon as the pleasant buzz faded, the guilt set in. Sure, Sam had occasionally got off on the smut he’d read, but this… this felt different. 

 

He’d always found Gabriel attractive, in that magnetic way- but he’d put it down to the archangel’s sheer charisma, the way he drew people in like moths to light. He’d always managed to justify it in his mind as nothing more than that, but this time he had to face the truth. The trip of his heart, the heat in the pit of his stomach every time Gabriel appeared in the room. This was something new. Deeper, more physical. This was him getting off thinking about the things he wanted to do to  _ Gabriel,  _ specifically. The things he wanted Gabriel to do to  _ him _ . 

 

Things he had no business wanting. The guilt curdling his stomach grew.

 

Somewhere along the line, this whole thing had gotten out of hand. He’d gone from being confused by sabriel to shipping it, and then it had become a possibility in real life and now it was all just one big mess. 

 

How would Gabriel really feel about him doing this? Hell, how would Gabriel feel about the things he was writing? Disgusted, maybe. Or no, maybe dismissive. He’d probably laugh at all the heartfelt conversations. Maybe it would mean nothing to him at all. After all, when millions of people around the world had been worshipping you for thousands of years, what would one small human’s pathetic domestic fantasies matter? 

 

He bit his lip, ignoring the prickling in his eyes as he pushed himself upright again. He was in this too deep. The feelings that he’d written about for so long had turned into something that was all too real. But it was too late to do anything about it.

 

One thing was certain, he glumly thought to himself with a sigh as he turned off the water and groped for a towel- things weren’t gonna get any less awkward between him and Gabriel now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Chuck they're both as bad as each other.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

The throne room doors flew open, hitting the walls with twin _bangs_ as Gabriel stalked through. Castiel came striding in his wake, unaffected by his towering mood.

 

“That was poorly handled, Gabriel. Viruviel only asked why you insist on them no longer wearing traditional garb to visit earth, for him it-”

 

“They say they want me leading them, then they turn around and refuse to do _anything_ I tell them!” Gabriel interrupted. He could feel his wings bristling out aggressively around him, grace sparking off the feathers, but at the moment he didn’t care. “They don’t _listen!_ I explain, but they’re too stuck in their ways to change it up! Half of them are still terrified of me, and the other half- I’m gonna turn around one day and end up with twenty three angel blades buried in my back, I know it. I just- uuugh!”

 

Gabriel made a loud noise of frustration, spinning to drop himself onto the throne. For half a second, Castiel’s face broke out of its deliberate calm passivity and contorted into annoyance. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

 

Gabriel froze guiltily. “Tell who?”

 

“Tell Sam about your problems! Let him help you!”

 

Gabriel scoffed. “Sam!? Why the hell would I do that?”

 

“You have always favoured Sam over Dean. I thought you might need someone… external to talk it through with, and he might be feeling more patient than I currently am.” Cas crossed his arms, his wings folding primly behind him.

 

Why had he picked heaven’s most stubborn angel as his lieutenant, again? Gabriel gestured incredulously to the door leading to the rest of heaven. “I’m not dumping this on him! Does he look like a therapist to you?”

 

Cas lost his patience. “Gabriel. You won’t talk to me, and you won’t talk to Sam. We can only help if you let us.”

 

He swept out, leaving Gabriel gaping after him.

 

Gabriel slumped back on the throne, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Great. Now what?

 

……

 

Dean flipped a pancake, eyes fixed on it even as he continued their conversation. “Sure, having the angels dropping in is okay, I guess. They gotta learn manners somehow. But what I want to know is, when are you getting rid of the fucking dog? The mutt’s a nuisance!”

 

Sam just rolled his eyes where he was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his coffee. Trickster was offline, which was unusual- normally he’d be on about now. Sam went back to idly scrolling through his AO3 feed, marking a promising-looking sabriel fic for the journey he knew they were setting out on that afternoon.

  
  
Jack looked up at Dean, confused, sat on the floor with one hand rubbing Arthur’s belly as his tongue lolled out in bliss. “But Dean, I caught you feeding Arthur bacon and telling him he was a good boy just this morning, surely you-”

 

“Shut up, Jack,” Dean growled through his teeth. Sam snorted through his smirk. Without looking, Dean flipped him off, them managed a perfect double flip of the final pancake and gave a little fist pump in victory before sliding it onto the stack. With a flourish, he put them in the middle of the table, Sam eagerly leaning back out of his way as he set them down. “Boom. Voila. All homemade. Don’t say I never do anything for ya. Eat ‘em before they get cold.”

 

Jack jumped up from the floor eagerly. Arthur startled for a moment, his stumpy legs wiggling in the air before he managed to right himself and spring to his feet. He danced around Sam’s chair, barking happily.

 

Sam grinned, reaching for his first pancake. But before he could pull one onto his plate, there was the sharp whistle and the flapping noise of an angel coming in to land.

 

Before he even turned to look, Sam knew that it was Gabriel, and he knew that something was wrong. He’d memorised that sound, and those wingbeats were too loud, too careless, as though he’d been approaching them too fast then had to slow himself down before he crashed headfirst into the bunker.

 

“Uncle Gabriel!” Jack paused, looking up and behind him, some of his enthusiasm fading. “Oh. You’re all… prickly.”

 

Sam turned and, sure enough, Gabriel’s face was like thunder.

 

“Hey,” Dean was gripping the spatula tightly, looking more annoyed than any sane person would be in front of an angry archangel. “You mind giving us some advanced warning before you drop in, Hot Wings? We’re eatin’ breakfast here!” Gabriel’s scowl grew.

 

Sam quickly stood. For once, that stupid voice in the back of his head singing about how Gabriel was _right there, right next to him!_ was quiet, drowned out by his concern for his friend. What could have upset him like that? Usually Gabriel just brushed things off. Not this time, apparently.

 

He ushered Gabriel out into the corridor before Dean could antagonise him any further. He shut the door quietly behind them, turning to find Gabriel pacing. The rustling was back again, and Sam yearned to know what was going on just out of his eyeline, but this was no time to ask invasive questions about his wings.

 

“Hey man, are you okay?”

 

“Leave it alone, Sam,” Gabriel snapped. “You can’t help me. Why did I even come here?”

 

Sam approached him cautiously. “You wanna talk me through it? What’s happening? Is it heaven?” Gabriel pursed his lips, looking away. “I might not be able to help much, but I can always listen. Gabriel. I’m... I'm here if you need me, okay? Is it heaven?”

 

For half a second, Gabriel paused, and Sam thought that he was considering it. He looked up, and his expression was so hopelessly torn it was almost painful to look at, but when he opened his mouth no words came out.

 

“Gabe-”

 

Sam raised a hand, reaching towards to comfort him, but that was the wrong move. Gabriel flinched violently. Sam snatched his hand back, horrified.

 

Almost immediately, Gabriel recovered himself, his shoulders hunching and his glare turning venomous. “Fuck off!” He snarled, a spark reigniting in his eyes. “You know nothing about me, Winchester! You know nothing about my life! So take your pity and shove it where the sun don’t shine!”

 

And he was gone in another clap of feathers.

 

Sam felt his shoulders sag. Well, there went the last of his hope for Gabriel trusting him.

 

.o0o.

 

Gabriel paced around the clearing. Small animals scurried out of his way, sensing his bad mood, and birds twittered alarm calls from the bushes.

 

Even the tranquillity of the Garden wasn’t enough to calm Gabriel at the moment. He’d fucked up with heaven, he’d fucked up with Cas, and wasn't this just the cherry on the shitscream sundae, he’d fucked up with Sam as well. By being his awful, prickly self and driving everyone else away. He could never go back to how things were before now, he’d ruined _everything_.

  
This would never happen in a fic, he found himself thinking miserably as he kicked a clump of grass. Fictional Gabriel would know what to do- he’d be confident, he could handle a couple of misbehaving seraphs, he could be a good brother, hell, he could talk to Sam without embarrassing himself or blowing up at him. Fictional Gabriel had his life together better than real him ever would.

 

But speaking of fictional him, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He whipped it out, staring at the screen.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _Hey, can you talk at the moment?_

 

Gabriel was tempted to say no, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. And hey, maybe writing about his fictional self might give him some ideas.  

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Yeah sure. What’s wrong?_
> 
> _  
> _ _  
> _ **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _I had a fight with a friend :( I’m not sure if I can make it better, so I’m trying to distract myself._

 

Gabriel grimaced. He sat down heavily on the ground.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _What a coincidence, me too._
> 
>  

His wings drooped down onto the damn grass behind him at the thought. His shoulders slumped in defeat. 

 

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _Aw man. Are you okay?_

 

_Not really,_ he wanted to say. Gabriel bounced his phone in his hand. Half of him wanted to reply to Moose, to talk to someone about all these problems he had no idea how to solve, while the rest of him insisted that he should be able to do this by himself, he was an _archangel_ , Dad-dammit. He didn’t need anyone!

 

Cas’ voice echoed around his grace. _We can only help if you let us_.

 

His phone pinged again.

 

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _You can always talk to me, you know that right?_

 

Fuck it.

 

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _It’s my younger siblings. I’m supposed to be the one in charge, sort of the man of the house. There’s no-one else. They all pestered me into the role and someone’s got to make all these big decisions but whenever I try to take responsibility they all just seem to hate me for it. But at the same time nobody else is willing to step up and I don't want everything to descend back into chaos so what can I do?_
> 
> _I wish dad would come back. He might have been a deadbeat, but he knew how to make people listen to him._

 

Gabriel’s thumbs stilled, looking out across the green expanse of the Garden. Getting it out there, even if it was to a stranger, made him feel lighter for some reason. As though a weight had been taken off his shoulders.

 

The texting dots bounced, and Moose's words popped up on screen in quick succession.

 

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _I know that feeling. Family’s hard. You’re going to make mistakes, no matter what you do. But I’ve been in the other position, and I think it makes a difference if you talk to them. Let them know you care about them, let them know why you’re making those decisions._
> 
> _I’ve started applying it to fanfic logic and it seems to work, so maybe it would work with your problems too- I think Sam would have been a lot less mad with Dean if he’d been straight with him from the start. And Mystery Spot and Changing Channels would have been resolved much faster if Gabriel had talked to Sam about what he was trying to say._
> 
> _But I’m sorry your dad’s gone. It’s not fair on you that he left you with all that responsibility_ **_._ ** _I hope you manage to talk it out with your siblings._

 

Gabriel stared down at the screen. _Apply fanfic logic_ , that was what Moose suggested, and on the surface it sure sounded like a stupid suggestion, because fanfic logic usually came down to ‘how much weird sex can we make these characters have?’ but Gabriel thought he knew what Moose really meant. _What would you do if this were fanfiction?_ _What would you do if you were stronger, kinder, braver? What would you dare to do if you were the best version of yourself and could go back and do it all the right way this time?_

 

He bit his lip and drew himself upright. He could do this. He could write his own fate. After all; What Would Fictional Gabriel Do?

 

......

 

Gabriel was more nervous than he’d ever been in his life. Even his sweat was sweating.

 

A small crowd was gathering in the hall where he’d decided to blow his horn to summon everyone, casting occasional uncertain glances at him before going back to talking amongst themselves. Cas had come along as well, much to Gabriel’s surprise and relief

 

“Brother, why have you called everyone here?”

 

Gabriel turned to his closest sibling, one wing extending out to nudge against Cas’ smaller ones. “I just want you to know, Cas- whatever happens in here in the next few minutes, I’m sorry. You’ve been a good brother to me, well, the best brother, and I’ve been… not that.”

 

Cas’ face looked half touched and half very concerned, his wings nudging him back, but before all the feelings in the room could get to him, Gabriel deliberately turned away to address the crowd.

 

“HEY!! EVERYBODY!! Over here!”

 

Slowly, the murmuring quietened down as everybody turned. A room full of angelic eyes fixed on him. Gabriel felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck.

 

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, hi. Never been very good at this speech business, so let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

 

Nobody spoke. Gabriel took a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you all that you were right- I’m not a leader. I never have been.”

 

The admission was almost a relief.

 

What little movement had been in the crowd stilled. Gabriel could have heard a pin drop. He could feel Castiel's wide blue eyes drilling into the back of his head, but he had started now, he couldn't stop. “I never wanted to rule. I don’t deal with responsibility well. But one thing I do know how to do is live among humans. Well, that and how to run away.”

 

His pathetic chuckle trailed off. The rest of the angels watched, unblinking. Gabriel coughed and kept going. “Anyways, I can’t tell you how to live. That was a terrible idea! I haven’t lived in heaven in millennia. The last time I had my harp and robe on, there were still mammoths down there.” He gestured around at them all. “I don’t know about your problems! I have no idea what you’ve all been through these past few years, just like you have no idea what I’ve been through. We might be family, but in every way that matters, most of us are strangers.”

  
  
He let his hands drop. “What I’m trying to say is, we gotta work together here. You all know you need to change to survive, to be more streetwise about the human world, but I can’t go around expecting you to be partying it up with the strippers in Vegas from nothing. We’ve gotta find a middle ground here. So I had a thought.”

Dictatorships haven’t worked well for heaven so far. Either we get power-hungry despots, or twenty different warring factions, or idiots who don’t have a clue what they’re doing.” Gabriel gestured to himself with a self-depreciating grin. “So why not give democracy a shot? Hell, there’s few enough of us now I bet we could all fit in the throne room. The Council of Heaven, that has a nice ring to it. We could get matching shirts!”

 

“You think that would work?”

 

Everybody looked around. Viruviel paled a little at the number of eyes on him, but he drew himself up, wings spreading a little to make himself look bigger. “Angels of lower spheres aren’t made to lead. We’re not used to voicing our opinions.”

 

Gabriel shrugged. “You think I’m made to lead? I think anything’s worth a shot at this point in time. And you say you’re not used to voicing your opinions, but look at that, you’re getting better at it already! You’ll be interrupting me mid-sentence before you know it. Just take your cues off Cas, he does it all the time.” He looked around at the small gathering of faces. “So. Wadda you say?”

 

 

.o0o.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _How did the talk with your family go?_

 

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Good :) we talked it all out. You were right, once I came clean things got a lot easier. That trick with treating it like fanfiction? Genius. Did you and your friend make up as well?_

 

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _No, I haven’t seen him all week. I think he’s avoiding me :(_

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _That sucks :( but if he’s a good friend he’ll come around._

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _I guess. Hey, you think Sam and Gabriel would fight?_
> 
> _  
> _  
>  **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Oh yeah, all the time. Especially at first. But only about things they were keeping secret from each other or refusing to talk about. Because they’re both idiots._

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _You’re so right. Hey, we should write that!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're not the brightest bulbs in the box, bless 'em.
> 
> ALSO I am very excited to announce that there has been a crossover event and the wonderful WarlockWriter has done me a massive solid by collabing some scenes with me!! It's awesome and I can't wait to show you, so that's ~coming soon~


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _Okay, how’s that?_

 

Sam typed in the comment at the side of the google doc that he and Trickster had spent the last three days working on together. Finally, after months of talking and planning, they’d started their first real collab fic and the writing was going, if Sam said so himself, amazingly.

 

They’d organised it (ironically) with Sam writing all of his own lines and Trickster covering Gabriel’s, and it was flowing onto the page. They’d brought their respective strengths into it- it was longer and more emotionally hard-hitting than what Trickster usually wrote, and for Sam, it was a little more personal fantasy than he usually let himself away with. Sam knew it wouldn’t mean the same things to Trickster (of course not- Trickster still had no idea that he was talking to Sam himself) but for him, it was almost pure fantasy fulfilment.

 

He took another sip of his coffee and hunched over the library table to reread.

 

 

> _“Are you gonna stay with me?” Gabriel heard Sam whisper as they lay together in the aftermath._
> 
> _He turned, pulling the blankets up further over them. He reached out a hand to trail over the smooth skin of Sam’s arm, finding the ridges of scars. “Of course I am. Why do you think I’m going anywhere, sweetheart?” The endearment slipped out without him thinking about it._
> 
> _Sam shrugged, strong muscles moving under Gabriel’s hands. “It’s just… you don’t seem to be the type of person to settle, that’s all. And, maybe,” Sam looked away, and Gabriel hated the caution in his shifting eyes, like he was already preparing for himself to be hurt. “I wasn’t sure if I was just a quick conquest for you. I… I just wanted to get it out of the way. If you wanted to go.”_
> 
> _What? Sam thought he was planning on just using him and leaving afterwards? Where had he got the impression that Gabriel just wanted him for sex?_
> 
> _Gabriel pulled him forwards. “Oh, no. No, Sam, no. I’m gonna be in your life for as long as you let me, trust me. Not planning on going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”_
> 
> _Sam’s arms came up, cautiously gripping him back, and the light of his soul that had dimmed since a few minutes ago flared back into shining brilliance._

 

Just re-reading the words made Sam’s heart clench in longing. What he wouldn’t give for that to be a reality. But this was as good as it was ever gonna get, and he had made his peace with that.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Looks good, you’re getting better at the smut too! We’ll have you writing PWPs any day now ;)_

 

Sam preened a little at the praise. Trickster was still writing.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _We should write another one after we’ve finished this. One about how Gabriel flirting with everyone because he’s incredibly cool makes Sam incredibly jealous._

 

Sam snorted. Bullshit!

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _So Gabriel’s flirting has nothing to do with him being insecure and desperate for affection and family?_

 

A pause. Sam smirked.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Yeah, obviously that’s the real reason. And it’s also the reason why he never flirts with Sam, because it he flirts with Sam it would be too real, and as you rudely pointed out, he’s massively insecure._

 

Sam grinned, then turned thoughtful. He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment before responding. Because realistically, what would _he_ do in that situation?

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _We should do it from multiple POVs, because Sam’s jealous that Gabriel’s flirting with everyone but him, BUT he also refuses to make a move on Gabriel because he’s terrified of it ending like Jess and Madison and everyone else, and he can’t bear to lose any more family._

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Moose, you’re a genius. But they get there in the end, right?_

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _Of course they do. We’ve just got to find a way to get the idiots to figure out that their feelings are reciprocated._

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _And that archangels are made of sturdier stuff than humans. Also, in the next fic, I’ve been thinking we should put in a scene addressing all the trauma Sam goes through, cos there’s no way they covered enough in canon. The amount of PTSD that poor man must have is insane. Sam might be good at helping other people deal with their own trauma, but I’ve started to realise he’s not very good at dealing with his own._

 

Well, Trickster wasn’t too far off. Sam thought about it and grimaced. He wasn’t sure he could cope with writing it all down, Trickster might have to write that section on his own. He’d been considering getting therapy recently- Maybe that shifter lady could fit him in for a session?

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _You might be right there. Maybe it’s because focusing on other people’s trauma is easier than trying to fix his own._

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _He’s an idiot but I love him._

 

Sam’s heart did a funny little skip in his chest. He ignored it and took another gulp of coffee.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _But hey, at least he tries to talk about his feelings, and that’s more than most of he characters. He’s got so much empathy for other characters who’ve been through trauma. I think that’s why Gabriel opened up to him after he got brought back from Asmodeus, you know? Like, the others would try and help, but Sam was the only one he could really relate to._

 

For half a second, Sam didn’t see it. He almost read right past it. But then-

 

He ground to a halt.

 

He was frozen, his eyes locked in the screen. The bottom had dropped out of his world. The words of that last message seemed to throb in front of his eyes, jumping out of the page.

 

Asmodeus.

 

Trickster was mentioning Asmodeus.

  
Sam’s mind started slowly spinning. Had he ever mentioned Asmodeus in any of his works or headcanons? No, he’d remember. He’d deliberately avoided anything past the books’ canon. So how the hell did Trickster know? Maybe he’d read it somewhere else, maybe…

 

But Sam knew he was grasping at straws. He was tied to the tracks of logic, and the steam train of his own unavoidable conclusions was thundering towards him. Asmodeus had never been in the books, not even the later ones. Gabriel’s return, and everything associated with it, had happened after the books finished.

 

He wanted so much to deny it, but…

 

No, he realised as his heart plummeted. It was too much coincidence. The way Trickster was talking about Gabriel’s capture by Asmodeus was too specific. There was no way he could have known that much without inside knowledge.

 

And if he had inside knowledge, to know that much detail, they had to be well connected to them. Sam very much doubted it was any of the new hunters- there hadn’t been any sort of equivalent to the internet in the apocalypse world, and the harshness of the place seemed to have made all of them seemed to be brutally practical. No way was Trickster really Dean. Or anyway, Sam really, really hoped he wasn’t. Not with that amount of smut featuring him.

 

Which meant, if this wasn’t one of their allies, it was probably someone- or _something_ \- trying to get to him.

 

He stared at the screen, numb. How had they found him on here? How had they known it was him?

 

However they’d known, they’d been good. They’d almost got him before they slipped up. His mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. He’d liked them, whoever they were- suddenly all those hours of talking and flirting were stained. It wasn’t his friend any more. This demon, or angel, or whatever they were, had been slyly working their way into his confidences. Gaining his trust. And like a naive fool, Sam had opened up to them, talked about his life, his family. He’d shared all his impossible dreams. The bastards must have been laughing at him; Sam Winchester, the great hunter, posting his pathetic domestic fantasies on the internet for the world to see.

 

The taste of betrayal was bitter in his mouth as he scrolled back through the fics, the conversations, the shared thoughts and desires he’d confided in who he’d thought was a friend.

 

Anger started growing out of the hurt, burning in his gut, mixing with the sinking disappointment, and fuck, this was familiar. This was just how he’d felt when Ruby had betrayed him.

 

And he’d almost thought that this time... Just when he thought he’d found someone…

 

To think he’d almost…

 

Anyway. That didn’t matter anymore. He closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over them. Another friend gone. Only this time, he was mourning someone who never even existed in the first place.

 

There was a _ping_. Sam looked down. There was a new message on his screen.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Hey, you remember I invited you to SuperCon a few weeks ago and you said you’d think about it? It’s this weekend, we could meet up :) The cosplay competition’s on the last day, so even if you can’t make the first day you could come along to that so we can heckle everyone together. I’ll be entering as Gabriel, obviously ;)_

 

So this was it. This was their plan all along. Their way of getting him alone. His fist clenched on the side of the table until his knuckles were white. The demon-killing knife was suddenly a cold, heavy weight tucked into the back of his jeans.  

 

Slowly, he typed out a message.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _You know, I think I’m free this weekend, I can make the whole thing! I’ve been wanting to show off my Sam cosplay. When are you getting there?_

 

.o0o.

 

Gabriel couldn’t deny it, he was nervous.

 

Standing in the foyer of the convention halls, he fidgeted impatiently. He almost couldn’t believe it- he was about to meet Moose in the flesh for the first time! He’d be able to put a face to the name. It felt surreal- he had to admit, whenever he thought of Moose, he imagined him looking like Sam. It would be strange, seeing someone he so strongly associated with someone he knew with a different face, but maybe that would help him sort out all these wayward feelings of his.

 

He looked around in an attempt to distract himself. Already there were vendors setting up, stalls with bottled water and gifts. Posters were stuck on the walls, advertising talks and meeting groups and even the much-anticipated cosplay competition. People were starting to trickle in as well, some of them dressed normally, but most of them in some kind of supernatural-themed getup. A gaggle of teenage girls in flannels and baggy jeans laughed and yelled, “love the Gabriel outfit!” at him as they went past. He grinned and waved back at them.

 

Where was Moose? He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago!

 

Gabriel caved, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

 

> **_Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets:_ ** _Where are you?_

 

He tapped his foot as he waited for a reply. More and more people started streaming through the doors. A yellow-eyed demon walked past. Someone in a flimsy-looking impala costume made of cardboard boxes. A couple cosplaying destiel with an assistance dog wearing a flannel neckerchief and a ‘so get this’ sign. A few vampires. A woman lugging two human-size Sam and Dean cutouts.

 

Maybe Moose wasn’t coming? Maybe he got cold feet? Maybe he thought Gabriel was some weird creep on the internet who wanted to abduct him, maybe-

 

_Ping!_

 

Gabriel had never opened his phone faster.

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters:_ ** _Sorry, just managed to get parked, I’m nearly there :)_

 

He was nearly here!! Aw, hell. The butterflies exploded in Gabriel’s stomach. He turned to stare at the entrance again. Any second now!

 

Just then, the double doors opened, and Gabriel realised why Moose must have had problems getting parked. A crowd burst through, all chattering and laughing excitedly, barrelling through the auditorium like a herd of plaid-patterned, Winchester-themed wildebeest. Gabriel squinted, looking this way and that, but making out individuals was hard among the throng. Which meant he didn’t see him coming until he was right in front of him.

 

A tall, flannel-clad shape detached itself from the crowd. Gabriel looked up, then did a double take.

 

Wait.

 

That wasn’t just someone dressed as Sam.

 

It was as though the whole room froze around them. Gabriel’s stomach dropped into his feet. The sound of the crowd dropped out into ringing white noise. Even though most of him was paralysed, the puzzle pieces in his brain slowly clicked into place. His vision narrowed down until he could only see Sam- wait, no,   _Moose_ \- standing awkwardly in front of him like a long-legged omen of doom.

 

“Gabriel,” Sam breathed. His eyes were wide, pinning Gabriel to the spot. The hand behind his back fell down to his side in astonishment. He looked just as floored as Gabriel felt. “Trickster? You’re…”

 

Gabriel was stuck in place, mouth open. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even breathe. All the air had been pulled from his lungs.

 

Sam wavered, tipped forwards in slow motion. He took a step towards Gabriel.

 

It was as though that movement broke the spell that had been cast over them. Suddenly, Gabriel could move again. With a frantic surging beat of wings, he was gone.

 

He went up, away, any direction but back there with Sam standing there _staring_ at him like that. He didn’t care where he went. As long as he was gone. Oh Father, oh Father, oh _Father..._

 

He looked down and felt his wings wobble in surprise. How had he got all the way to the Garden? He must have been flying faster than he had in a long time.

 

But this was good, he realised, nobody would find him here. Nobody would have to witness his humiliation. Locking his wings, he glided down in erratic jolts, landing with a stumble in the deserted clearing.

 

He stayed there where he stopped for a few seconds, just breathing, his eyes closed, distant thoughts drifting past his closed eyelids. He couldn’t believe how monumentally _stupid_ he’d been. He was thicker than the Earth’s crust. He was more short-sighted than a hundred old ladies without their reading glasses. How had he never noticed how much Moose knew? How _detailed_ his hunting fics were? The genuine emotion behind his fiction? Nobody wrote Sam that in-character, nobody ever _could_ if they were basing it off Chuck’s trashy pulp fiction.

 

He’d been so curious about Gabriel’s character, too. And Gabriel had talked it all through with him. Let him past his shields and into his hopes, his fears, his fantasies. All in the disguise of speculations and headcanons, but Sam was smart. He’d work out that it had all been real.

 

Oh, this was a nightmare. Gabriel had never even stopped to think about who might be on the other end of the screen. But then, by the look on his face, Sam had obviously never known it was _him_ he was talking to, either. They both knew too much.

 

A hysterical laugh bubbled up out of his chest. He opened his eyes and stared defeatedly out at the forest, but all he could see was Sam’s face. That look of confusion that had been the last glimpse he’d gotten as he’d taken off. But soon it would close off into disgust, to derision and fear. He doubted he’d ever be allowed back in the bunker. He’d never see Sam again, that was for sure.

 

His heart hurt. It ached. Like there was a blade in between his ribs, slowly being twisted.

 

Father, why had he ever gotten himself into this? He was screwed, and not even in the fun way.

 

Gabriel put his face into his hands, slumping against the tree. “Fuckin’ _raspberries_.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entirety of the drama in this chapter could have been spared by one (1) skype call before meeting up. Internet safety, kids!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a massive thank you to say to WarlockWriter, without whom this chapter would have taken many more months to complete and would have been of far inferior quality. Let's just say I'm more of a Moose when it comes to writing smut, and WarlockWriter was kind enough to step in to play Trickster and save you all from my 'engorged love rod's! (just kidding, I might be bad but I'm not that bad ;))  
> Honestly, for real, thank you so much, you've saved me many hours of frustration! <3

 

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters commented:_ ** _ Gabe, talk to me _

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters commented:_ ** _ Gabe, where have you gone? Stop avoiding me _

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters commented:_ ** _~~Gabriel, where are you? You’ve been missing two days, we’re getting worried, Cas is searching for you. I’m sorry if I offended you, I get that the fanfiction is weird but I just thought-~~ *message deleted* _

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters commented:_ ** _ Please come back. _

 

> **_Moose-of-Letters commented:_ ** _ I miss you _

 

...

 

Sam felt Gabriel’s presence before he even opened the door to his hotel room.

 

He hesitated in the corridor, one hand resting on the handle. There was that buzz on the air, the approaching storm, the electrical expectation of a nervous grace. The very atmosphere resonated tension to Sam’s grace-sensitive senses. 

 

Gabriel was here! He’d actually come back! 

 

Sam took a second to compose himself, tamping down the adrenaline, the excitement and the nervousness. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in. 

 

Quietly, he opened the door.

 

Gabriel was sitting on the bed, his legs hanging over the side, feet planted on the floor. He didn’t react to Sam’s entrance on the surface, his elbows still resting on his knees, but Sam felt the presence all around him focus onto him like the brightest spotlight. Out of sight, there was a brief rustle of shifting feathers.

 

Sam shut the door behind himself with a soft  _ click _ . 

 

“Gabriel.” He was impressed with how calm and even his own voice sounded.   
  


Gabriel half-turned, all faux-casual, his usual plastered-on smirk in place, but the slight glow of his eyes gave him away. “Sam! I’m surprised you’re still around. Thought you’d go back to the bunker if I was a no-show.” 

  
Sam shrugged, keeping his shoulders deliberately loose as he walked across the room. Two could play this game. “There wouldn’t be much point. I’d just have to explain to Dean why I’m back so soon, and honestly? I could do without the teasing if he figured out where I was. And anyway,” he sat on the bed next to Gabriel. “I already paid for the con tickets. Figured I’d stick around for the cosplay competition.”

 

The smirk on Gabriel's face dropped away. “No you didn’t.” His voice was uncharacteristically blunt, none of his usual avoidance as he looked Sam solidly in the face for the first time since he’d walked in. “You’ve been searching for me. I can feel those tracking spells, you know.”

 

There wasn’t really anything Sam could say to that. 

 

They sat there in awkward silence, just staring at each other. A muscle ticked in Gabriel's jaw. How were they ever meant to talk about this? Words crowded on the tip of Sam’s tongue.  _ Did it mean anything to you, what we wrote? _ He wanted to ask.  _ Did those stories mean to you as much as they did to me? _

 

But nothing was coming out. Which always seemed to be the way with the two of them, Sam thought in frustration as he watched Gabriel grimacing, similarly tongue-tied. Neither of them seemed to be able to communicate without a screen between them. 

 

Finally, he decided that blunt was the way to go. “What was your plan?” He forced out awkwardly. “Avoid me forever?”

 

“Pretty much.” Gabriel grimaced, avoiding his eyes again. “It must have been a nasty shock to find out it was me, but Sam, I swear to you, I didn’t know it was you either. I wasn’t tricking you or… or anything creepy like that. It wasn’t meant to be creepy.” 

 

Sam turned to look at him, surprised. 

 

Gabriel looked like he wanted the bed to swallow him whole. He’d pulled his legs up and was sitting cross-legged on top of the covers, almost hugging his knees to his chest, none of his usual swagger and confidence to be seen. Sam found it almost disconcerting- Gabriel should never look  _ small _ . 

 

Did Gabriel… did he really think  _ he  _ was the creepy one in this scenario? Sam had never once considered Gabriel might think he was the bad guy here, but the way he was reacting…

 

He looked like someone who’d exposed more of their feelings than they were ready to reveal. There was nothing fake or deceptive about the absolute mortification on his face, or the resignation. Gabriel looked as though he was bracing himself for Sam to kick him out, to tell him to get lost and to never darken his doorway again.

 

And suddenly, Sam had an image from the last fanfic he and Trickster had written; Gabriel being unsure of his welcome, not daring to admit his feelings even to himself until it was nearly too late. Trickster insisting they wrote it that way because he'd said that Gabriel would be too insecure to even consider that Sam might feel the same way about him.

 

And Gabriel  _ was  _ Trickster. 

 

Which meant that, judging by the way Trickster usually wrote his fics, Sam would have to make the first move.

 

Sam took a deep breath, deliberately shattering the silence. “Actually, finding out it was you? It was kind of a relief.”

 

He saw Gabriel’s eyes go wide with surprise and just a flicker of hope before he turned to give Sam his most incredulous look. Sam chuckled, shrugging. “When you dropped that spoiler about… about Asmodeus, I thought it was gonna have to come in here and kill my crush. Which seems to happen to me a shocking amount, so. I’m glad I didn’t have to this time.”

 

Sam saw the way the glow in Gabriel’s eyes sparked at the word ‘crush’, but he quickly covered it. He groaned, flopping down onto his back in over-dramatic defeat. “Dad dammit. Continuity errors  _ again! _ ”

 

Sam grinned down at him. “Your greatest downfall.”

 

“Always with the continuity errors.”

 

He spoke the same way as he typed, Sam realised. And suddenly, with a dizzying tilt, Sam found his perspective on the whole thing flipped yet again. 

 

He wasn’t just talking to Gabriel, he was talking to  _ Trickster _ , the man who he’d been slowly falling in love with for the last six months, though he’d been trying to deny it to himself. Trickster, who he'd spent hours talking to about anything and everything. He knew how much he cared about and worried about his family. He knew which conversation topics would result in enthusiastic rambles (cave paintings, biblical lore, any historical figure) and which ones would result in an impassioned rant (politics and global warming). He knew his favourite dogs, his least favourite ice cream flavours. He knew Trickster's tastes and the things that made him laugh. He _knew_ him. 

 

And suddenly, talking didn’t seem nearly so hard anymore. They could manage one little confession. They’d done the hard part. They’d had discussions about their kinks, for god’s sake.

 

Sam laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all.

 

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him, but Sam saw right through to the reluctant amusement underneath. “Stop laughing you big moron, nothing about this is funny.”

 

“Come on, Gabe. It’s kinda funny.” 

 

Gabriel just groaned. Sam nudged him, and he could feel the smile tugging at his own lips. “It’s the sort of thing you usually set up, remember? We just spent four months roleplaying to each other as  _ ourselves.  _ How is that not hilarious? _ ” _

 

Gabriel gave a tiny snort of laughter and promptly tried to muffle it, but Sam could see the smile peeking out from under his hand. But then the hand dropped as Gabriel seemed to come to a realisation. His gaze snapped up to look at Sam with slowly growing glee. 

 

“Hold the phone. You, Sam Winchester, wrote courtroom porn.” He pointed an accusing finger in Sam’s direction. “How did I not know that was you? How the hell didn’t I figure it out months ago? Who else would write  _ Courtroom porn!” _

 

Sam threw his hands into the air in denial, but the grin was spreading fast across his face, the usual warmth he felt when he was bantering with Trickster rekindling in his heart. “Dude! You wrote  _ tentacle _ porn about us! Hentai does  _ not  _ have the moral high-ground in  _ any  _ situation.”

 

Gabriel laughed, deep and startled, before his grin grew wicked. He propped himself up on his elbows. “And who left a glowing review on my tentacle porn?”

 

Sam coughed, feeling his cheeks heat. “How about we just don’t mention the tentacle porn again?”

 

Gabriel just chuckled, both of them settling back into a more comfortable quiet.

 

“It’s impossible, right?” Gabriel’s voice broke the silence after a minute or two, more sombre now.   


  
“The tentacle porn? Yeah, probably.”   


  
Gabriel thumped Sam on the arm, pushing himself fully upright with a sigh. “You know what I mean. Us.”

 

And Sam did. Gabriel was talking about the concept of Sam-and-Gabriel, of them together. Gabriel though  _ they  _ were impossible. 

 

Sam wasn’t sure he agreed. Fanfiction might not be real life, but he was starting to suspect it sure reflected it sometimes.

 

Gabriel must have seen some of that on his face, because he grimaced, frowning. “Hate to burst your bubble, Sam, but real life isn’t fanfiction.”

 

He turned away, but Sam grabbed his arm, suddenly frightened he would take off. “It is!” Gabriel turned to look at him, one eyebrow rising. Sam gentled his hold. “I mean… not all of it, obviously. But…” he took a deep breath. “It’s everything we want, isn’t it? Things we won’t admit to ourselves, situations that frighten us in real life, but if it’s on the page then we can control it. Things that we  _ think  _ will never happen but can’t stop hoping for.”

 

Gabriel’s mouth quirked into a smirk. “I’m fairly sure you couldn’t get pregnant no matter how hard you imagined it.”

 

“You know what I mean, Gabriel.” Fiction might not directly affect the real world, but it sure affected your perspective of it, and Sam was rapidly realising that in this case, that was close enough. 

 

He leaned in towards Gabriel, stopping when he saw his eyes widen, his movements stiffening in uncertainty. “Did you mean it? What you said in your fic? Because I did,” he interrupted before Gabriel could do more than suck in a sharp breath of surprise. “I meant every word. And I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first month I knew you as Trickster.”

 

“Really?”

 

Sam inched closer, his eyes drawn magnetically down to Gabriel’s lips. “Well, I wanted to punch you first, but yeah. Of course I did. It was pretty damn confusing being in love with the real you, with Trickster, _and_ with the fic version of yourself that you were writing, all at the same time.”

 

Sam was close enough to hear the tiny hitch in Gabriel’s breath at the words ‘in love’. Suddenly, Gabriel’s hands were pulling him closer. Sam looked down into Gabriel’s darkened eyes, and wow, all the fanfiction had been right- they really were golden.

 

“Look at both of us morons,” Gabriel murmured. “Both of us pining like a Dad-forsaken hundred thousand word long slow-burn fic when all we had to do was talk to one another and we could have been boning from the second chapter.”

 

Sam grinned, unable to stop his own arms from encircling Gabriel, hands landing on his ass to pull him closer. The sparkle in Gabriel’s eyes told him he knew exactly what Sam was doing. “You know I’ve always liked slow-burns.”

 

Gabriel chuckled, “Well, they’ve been growing on me, too,” and he leaned in, and suddenly, they were kissing. Gabriel’s mouth was hot against his, and Sam opened wider, greedy for it, grasping him closer. Like that was the sign he’d been waiting for, Gabriel plunged in, turning the kiss electric and heavy until Sam had to break away to breathe. He closed his eyes, resting their foreheads together as he panted. 

 

“That’s… wow.”

  
  
Sam just laughed, chuckling. He pressed another kiss against the softness of Gabriel’s lips, then pulled away with reluctance, smiling as Gabriel chased after him. It was hard not to press him down into the sheets and consummate their new relationship right then and there, but they had time. And there was something they needed to do  _ now _ or they were going to miss it.

 

Gabriel pouted for a moment, clearly eager to get back to making out. “What is it?”

  
  
“Well, you did mention something we should do while we were here...” He pulled away, rummaging in his coat pockets while Gabriel watched on in confusion. “Aha!” He pulled out two tickets, holding one out to Gabriel. He took it slowly, and Sam watched as a grin of glee spread across his face. 

 

“The cosplay contest? Hells yeah! We’re gonna win this thing for sure! Come on!”

 

......

 

“I can’t  _ believe  _ we came in second,” Gabriel protested as they walked back into the room. “I mean we are  _ The  _ Sabriel. In the flesh. How could we only take second?”

 

Sam smiled at Gabriel’s incredulous protests. He couldn’t disagree, but the other costume had been really good.  _ Insanely  _ good. The girl they had been up against had been wearing a contraption featuring no fewer than six golden feathered wings, all rigged up to pulleys and able to be moved independently. They'd both gaped at her as she had proudly shown them off and the crowd went wild as they spread to their full extent.

 

Gabriel had leaned over on stage to whisper in his ear, “Shall I tell her I don’t really have six?”

 

“How many?” Sam had murmured back, intrigued.

 

“Two, but they’re bigger than that. And look at them; the aerodynamics are awful. She’d never get off the ground...” He had devolved into jealous muttering, reluctantly applauding along with the rest of the audience while Sam watched him fondly.

 

But the thought had stuck in his head as they handed out the prizes; Gabriel, with two great wings spread out on either side of him, not just a costume but a living, sensitive expanse of golden feathers for him to sink his fingers into.  _ Would the real deal feel as good and soft and warm as they’d looked? _ he’d wondered. _ Would Gabriel be willing to spread them just for him? _

 

He’d needed to shift to adjust himself in his jeans just at the thought, thankful that they were already piling back offstage and everyone else had been too busy to notice the situation in his pants. They’d quickly excused themselves from some other fans who offered to go out for a drink with them- Gabriel must have seen the gleam in his eye, because he had seemed just as eager to get back to their room as Sam was. 

 

Sam shut the door quietly behind them both. He knew what he wanted to happen, and, considering how many words of porn they’d written together (and how eager they'd both been earlier), he knew how this should go. But it was so easy in writing and so damned hard in person.

 

Gabriel removed his jacket and sat down on the bed, feet swinging back and forth like he was waiting for something. Damn it! He wrote tentacle porn! Why couldn’t he just make this easy on both of them?

 

But Gabriel was obviously waiting for Sam to make the first move, so he took a deep breath, put his hands behind his back, set his feet and said, in a low, commanding voice, “Stand up, Gabriel.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes widened, but, to Sam’s surprise, he stood. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“Show them to me. I want to see them.”

 

For a second, Gabriel just stared at him, emotions flashing past behind his eyes, and Sam started to worry that he’d pushed too far. Or maybe Gabriel just didn’t get what Sam was asking? 

 

But then Gabriel started stripping off his shirt in hurried, clumsy movements. He turned, rolling his shoulders, and Sam had a moment to admire the way the muscles flexed under his skin before the air around him started shimmering like a mirage. Slowly, the wings emerged.

 

Sam felt his breath catch. They were magnificent. 

 

The longest feathers spread out as they appeared, fanning effortlessly across the room until they bumped the walls on either side. The feathers along the leading edge were gilded in bright gold, shimmering as they moved, their smooth surfaces leading down to the richer, darker hues of the coverts and the primaries. Each of the wings was easily as long as Gabriel was tall, the rich brown of the innermost flight feathers brushing the backs of his knees. As Sam watched, the feathers rustled under his gaze, the flex of the wings brushing a gentle breeze across him. 

 

Sam stepped forward, hands raised, desperate to touch. But he stopped himself. “Uh, may I?”

 

Gabriel huffed out a laugh, turning his head to look sideways. His wings moved with him, shifting organically as he breathed. “Thought you were the one giving orders here, Sammy.”

 

Sam felt himself blush, unable to take his eyes off the lustrous gleam of the closest feathers. “Well, yeah. But I don’t know what would hurt you or not feel good. I’m not into causing un-fun pain.”

 

Gabriel smiled at him properly at that. “You can’t really hurt them, so feel me up, big boy.”

 

The words were light, but Sam heard the uncertainty that underlay them. So he moved slowly, giving the angel plenty of time to put a stop to anything he didn’t like. But as soon as he was close enough, he plunged his hands into the beautiful feathers closest to Gabriel’s back. They were just as soft as Sam had imagined that they would be. Gabriel gave a full-body shudder as Sam’s fingers combed through them, his wings drawing in close, fluffing themselves up and rustling all around them in a familiar susurration. Sam grinned.

 

Gabriel pulled away from his hands, but before Sam could start to worry he spun so that they were face to face. His eyes were dark again, pupils almost eclipsing the gold. “They’ve been trying to show themselves to you for months, Winchester.  _ Months _ . And I’ve been having to hold them back.”

 

“They’re beautiful,” Sam told him honestly.

 

“Just like you then,” Gabriel said, leaning forward to kiss him. Just like the first time, the kiss was hot and wet and just perfect, but this time there was a touch of desperation that hadn't been there before. Sam reached back, his hands finding the muscled arch of Gabriel’s wings, gripping tight through the sleek mass of shifting feathers to draw him closer. He was already hard, and Sam nudged apart Gabriel’s legs just enough to insert a knee. Gabriel thrust against it and groaned into Sam’s mouth.

 

Sam continued stroking over the feathers as they kissed, his grip on the wings softening. He let his hand drift and found a spot right between Gabriel’s shoulder blades that made the angel arch against him. The wings snapped half-open again, fluttering in little shivery bursts.

 

“Like that, do you?” Sam asked against his lips.

 

“Yeah.” Gabriel’s voice was little more than a whisper.

 

Sam was digging his fingers into the soft feathers and pressing into the muscles between Gabriel’s shoulder blades. The angel was rutting hard against his leg and making low keening noises, wigs fluttering more erratically. His kiss got sloppy, completely losing any hint of rhythm. Sam smiled to himself. He hadn’t expected to wreck him quite that quickly.

 

“Bed,” Gabriel gasped. Before Sam could even think about moving them, the wings beat the air, and a moment later Sam startled as they fell a few inches, dropping onto the coverlet.

 

“Did you just fly us a couple of feet?” Sam asked, stifling a laugh.

 

“Impatient.” Gabriel snapped his fingers and all clothes vanished. Sam gasped at the sudden feel of heated skin against his body. Soft wings wrapped around him in a cocoon of feathers, caressing him all over. Now it was his turn to moan and thrust against Gabriel.

 

The angel shifted until he was on top, grinding against Sam who met him, motion for motion. His hands never stopped weaving through feathers. He quickly learned other good spots. Gabriel liked to be petted over the tops of his wings and where the thick joints connected to his back. He shuddered all over and started mouthing little bites into his neck when Sam scratched at their soft, downy undersides The feathers themselves weren’t that sensitive, but as Sam moved deeper along the feather shafts to where the feathers met skin, he got particularly good reactions. He dragged his nails gently along the base of the primaries, playing them like they keys of a piano, and earnt a shaky moan. 

 

Gabriel’s movements were getting more desperate and erratic, grinding down. “Fuck, I need you in me, Sam!”

 

Sam had fallen into an almost hypnotic state with his hands in Gabriel’s feathers, but the urgency in his voice snapped him back into the present. He briefly considered logistics. His only experience with a man, if you could call it experience, was in writing smut. So he definitely knew the theory. And, sure he’d played with his own ass a few times. For research. 

 

He ran through what they’d need. Did he have enough lube? He still remembered that time Trickster had let him have it when he wrote a scene with too little...

 

Gabriel groaned above him, out of breath. “Fuck, Sam. We’re going to be here all day while you try to remember how much lube to use!”

 

Before Sam could even open his mouth to reply to that, Gabriel shifted his weight, and, in one smooth motion, sat down on Sam’s cock.

 

“Gabriel!” Sam yelped, tensing up in shock. His hands flew to Gabriel’s hips, fluttering ineffectively, torn between holding him up or yanking him down. It felt amazing to be inside, almost dizzyingly good, but what about prep? 

 

But Gabriel’s head was thrown back, wings poised high above him for balance, and the expression on his face was pure bliss. “You worry too much, Sam. Archangel, remember? I can skip all those stages.”

 

He could? Wait. Sam narrowed his eyes, grunting as Gabriel slid down another agonisingly good inch. "So why... why didn't you tell me that before I used an entire tube of lube prepping you in one scene?"

 

“Because it was so much fun to watch you write it,” Gabriel said, grinning down at him. 

 

Sam groaned, half in pleasure and half in embarrassment, but he quickly forgot about it because Gabriel chose that moment to start rolling his hips in a steady rhythm. He was tight and hot and perfect, enough to have Sam gasping, his hips thrusting up . Gabriel’s wings were half-spread behind him, fanning the air in time with his movements. Sam had the vague thought that maybe he should be doing something more, but Gabriel seemed to have it well in hand. But, shouldn’t he be angling for his prostate or something?

 

But then Gabriel moaned, a sound of pure, debauched pleasure as he planted his hands on Sam’s chest to get more leverage to fuck himself back on the cock inside him, and Sam figured he should just enjoy the ride.

 

They moved together. Sam felt the pleasure wash over him in waves. He was getting close, feeling his balls draw up against his body, when Gabriel gasped, “Uh, Sam. Little help here.”

 

Sam opened his eyes and realised he had been focused so much on his own pleasure that he hadn’t remembered Gabriel’s cock was getting no attention. He spat into his hand to moisten it a bit and reached between them to grip the angel, who, if anything, was larger than himself. Gabriel must have seen him looking, because he gave Sam a grin through his open, panting mouth.

 

“Didn’t-- gah!... Didn’t pick this vessel for its height, Sammy!”

 

Sam laughed and stroked his cock, a little faster than they were moving. He made sure to give a good extra squeeze and wrist rotation on the upstroke, and Gabriel’s moans increased in volume.

 

It didn’t take long after that. Just as Sam got close, Gabriel suddenly hunched forwards over him, wings arching forwards in a protective feathered canopy. The change of angle made them both groan, and then Gabriel was squeezing with his internal muscles--suddenly punishingly tight around Sam’s cock--and the boiling pressure in Sam’s body reached its peak. He came with a yell, muffled as Gabriel slammed their lips together in a heated kiss.  

 

Somehow, Sam managed to keep stroking Gabriel through his orgasm, and he came a moment later, spurting over Sam’s chest, wings shuddering above them. He pulled out slowly before collapsing with a pleased sigh. Sam twitched all over again, wincing at the friction on his sensitive flesh. 

 

As soon as the aftershocks eased, Gabriel groaned and pushed himself upright. Sam watched with lazy curiosity as his wings shuddered once, the feathers all puffing out before deflating to lie flat again. With a snap of Gabriel’s fingers, they were suddenly clean, the mess vanishing. Sam chuckled as Gabriel settled back on his chest, one wing draped over him like a living blanket.

 

They were quiet for a few seconds as their breathing slowly calmed. Sam started idly tracing circles on the warm skin of Gabriel’s back, playing with the scattering of down between his wings.

 

“Hey Sam. You know what?” 

 

“Hmm?” The question nudged Sam out of his warm half-doze. 

 

“This is gonna make an epic fanfic.”

 

Sam’s snort turned into a full-blown laugh. 

 

“I mean it!” Gabriel heaved himself halfway upright, propping himself up on his elbows and the wrists of his wings so he could scowl playfully down at him, “and you’d better help me write this, I’m not taking it on without a co-author. I’m thinking a minimum eight chapters of our glorious full-frontal love affair. Our fans will adore us.”

 

Sam reached up to pull him back against his chest, still chuckling. “Eight chapters of our miscommunications and ever-increasing frustration, you mean.”

 

Gabriel waved a hand vaguely, letting himself be manhandled back down. “Well, that too, but we can skim over that, right? Make it out like we figured it out sooner?”

 

“I’m sure we can afford some artistic license. We worked it out eventually, so I guess we did learn something from all that writing about it after all.” Sam wrapped his arms around Gabriel, burying his face in his neck. “And, hey. Thank you.” 

 

Feathers tickled against his cheek as Gabriel tucked a wing around his shoulders. “What for?”

 

“For not running away this time. For coming back.”

 

He felt Gabriel’s smile against his hair before he fell asleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Hope you all enjoyed! Until next time!


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